Journeyman
by esama
Summary: Discontinued until further notice. In grand scheme of things, the momentary Ascension wasn't that important. The journey Harry took after it was much more interesting. Formerly known as Sentenced
1. Chapter 1

Warnings; Death of character, sort of, Ascension and eventual ShapeShifter!Harry. Formerly known as Sentenced

**Journeyman  
****1.**

Harry waited, one knee lifted up and his chin resting on his palm, ever the image of a bored teenager even as he sat there, on the irritated molecules of the air above Voldemort's cooling body. Around him, everything was frozen; people stuck in between one motion and another, stilled between a step or a scream, some staring at Voldemort or something else near him, frozen in their attempts to try and see, discover the source of the blast that had taken the Dark Lord down. Even the air beneath Harry, the irritated molecules, were still, faint wisps of steam still in the air like brushstrokes on a canvas.

The entire scenes reminded him of a memory in a pensieve, in a way, except not because even those were in motion. No, it was more like he had stepped into a photograph – a muggle photograph, the sort that never moves. In a way it was just like that – exactly like that. He knew, without needing proof of any sort, physical or visual, that the world wasn't actually still. Bellatrix Lestrange, who stood closest to him and Voldemort, was moving, screaming and maybe waving a wand, _somewhere_, and Fenrir Greyback was no doubt running towards the castle, maybe there already. The steam and smoke rising from Voldemort curled and moved and soon faded away, when the effects of the impact that had scorched his robes and flesh cooled.

But not here, not in this. He was stuck in a afterimage of a moment – in the thin layer between one second and another, two curves in the patterns of flowing time, stuck. Waiting.

It was very interesting, in a strange, obscure way. As Harry waited, he let his eyes slide over the still scene around him. It was dark, so dark that he had barely been able to see… anything before. Especially not when everything had been in motion – when he had been in motion. When the entire _planet_ had been in motion. But now, nothing moved and he could look and take the details like he would take in the smallest little things in a photograph.

Bellatrix Lestrange had strange eyes – sort of purplish blue. Had she been a better woman, they would've been beautiful, but in their state of frozen horror and anger and something nameless, they are far from could've beens. The grass around them, so dark before, was actually green – there were some hints of dew in the blades, and in the light of a frozen spell the tiny droplets glimmered, striking contrast to the dark of a midnight all around.

Harry looked, noting things like flies in the air and rips in the robes of the Death Eater, that one of them had mismatched pair of boots and that some of the trees he could remember form his first year at Hogwarts had been cut down, only stumps remaining. There were hundred million of tiny little details he could look, the dirt under someone's fingernails or a burned patch of skin, strange stitches in their clothing or maybe something on the ground, upturned rock or a indent of a footstep in the moist ground, snapped of branches of young and old bushes, leaves trodden to the grass and moss…

But in the end, none of it was really that interesting. Lestrange had a mad look in her eyes and blood stain on her neck and lock of her hair has been cut off crudely and her robes need some repair and she hadn't been eating enough – and no, Harry didn't really care about any of it anymore. It was hard to, here, where even emotion sat still in his mind, like a solid lump of _doesn't__matter_.

He looked away, away from the ground and the people and the plants, and up. Hogwarts loomed in the distance, dark, gigantic shape lighted by flashes of light that had been caught in the photographic split-moment, just like the death eaters. It looked enormous and… vulnerable, like a shadow about to be chased out of existence by persistent candles. At the distance he could barely tell anything else of the place, but the dark outlines against even darker sky, but still, he remembered that it was beautiful in the sunlight. A fairytale castle, inhabited by young magicians. Things of bedtime stories.

He could go there, he supposed. It would be easy, crossing over the distance, and then he would be able to take a closer look, but… no. He knew what Hogwarts looks like – and whatever he could see there would make little difference. People were fighting, sure, but the fight's gone past him. He had been left behind by the battles, left in a lost moment, and all he could see would be old news.

Who knew, the battle might be over already, in the real time – though he wouldn't put any bets on the outcome. Voldemort's death wasn't the turning point he had thought it would be – no, it had only evened the playground and the rest was left for the others, for the… _common_ magicians. Between them, without Voldemort to lead or Harry to dash ahead, it could go any way.

"Well, now," a soft voice spoke from somewhere, next to him or behind him or maybe all around him, it was hard to say. "What a surprise you are."

Harry looked – not exactly away, his eyes were still directed towards Hogwarts, but it was different way of looking – and like that there was a man before him. Harry blinked, lifting his chin from his palm, still frozen in emotion but feeling something like curiosity nonetheless. He didn't know the man – it wasn't Dumbledore from the Kings Cross Station where Harry had taken not the obvious choice, nor the easy choice, but the _bizarrely__beautiful_ one. It wasn't anyone else he had ever met either, and he would've remembered here, where thinking was easy and fleeting. It was no one he knew. It was…

It was a fond memory of a city from long ago and a honourable, proudly thought of career as a scientist, it was feel of crystals and sight of stars and millions of millions of light years in single second, it was development of eons and a love of a woman and a family and a man and another family, and it was eternity – in shape of a man who wasn't as much man as it was just _man__shaped_.

The man shaped being smiled, kind and sharp like blade made of sunlight. "Well, let me have a look at you," he said, stepping forward and holding his hands out – holding himself out, reaching at Harry's each side like enclosing his being between them to _feel_. And that was exactly what it was, Harry realised, shifting a little with confusion, as the man shaped being looked and felt into him – felt every shred of him.

"Hm. Harry, is it?" the man said. "You may call me, hm… Lumos, I think will suit. Yes, you may call me Lumos, should you feel the urge to verbalise," he nodded more to himself than to Harry and then looked at him. "Do you know what you have done, Harry?"

Harry hesitated. He did, but… it was hard to say if what he thought he had done and what the man thought he had done were the same thing. Thoughtful, Harry looked around himself and then below him, to Voldemort who lay there, partially on his side with loose fingers still grasping a wand, other hand thrown to the side, burned and withered after pitiful attempt to shield the main body from the attack.

He had done what had needed to be done. And not just as Harry Potter, the Chosen one, the Boy Who Lived. But in terms of task to be completed – ignoring his own history with Voldemort, and just taking the Dark Lord himself into consideration.

Voldemort was a mad man – in so many levels, he was mad. Mad of mind and soul and spirit and magic, mad enough for his madness to breach his physical boundaries and leak away, away from him and to his followers through the Dark Marks that connected those people to him. Voldemort – and it was really _Voldemort_ because tom riddle was too mutated to be called alive, anymore – was mad in terms of existence. He had needed to be put down.

Granted, Harry was still sorting out how he had done it – and why, exactly, had he been arrested in a moment afterwards. Or how. But with his emotions arrested as well, it was hard to ponder – curiosity was a distant, insignificant thing here.

"I did…" Harry stared and stopped because what he had been meaning to say wasn't quite right and somehow, he couldn't say anything but what was _right_. "I did," he said eventually, and looked up again. "I acted." That seemed better explanation – entire course of a thought and knowledge and impulse and the eventual path from there to Voldemort's death, all in two words.

"Yes, you did," Lumos said, nodding slowly but not thoughtfully, or patronisingly, just acknowledging. "But before that," he then specified and waved a hand around them, not at the scene but the existence that was somehow out of existence. "This. And you," he added. "Do you understand it?"

"No," Harry answered, this time without thought or hesitation. He knew, though. There had been a ethereal place, that had looked very much like Kings Cross Station to him. Dumbledore had been there – or maybe it had been just his own imagination, it was hard to say now. And there had been only so many ways out. Dumbledore had offered him two – go forward and die, or go back and live. Harry had seen a third way out – he had went up.

"There is a spark in you – in all creatures, in fact, but in you it has always been very bright," Lumos said, reaching out and patting Harry's chest. "Not quite here, but in your mind, and soul, your magic and timeline, your bones and genes and your evolution and development as a human being, and as a wizard. The spark is more a moment than anything else, the moment just before your last inhale. A bright, shining moment. Do you see?"

Harry didn't really, but he could remember it, vaguely and sharply all at once. "Yes," He said, and slid down from the still, irritated molecules, and to the still, cool ones of the ground. It felt impetuous, now, to be sitting in midair – childish. "It was the moment I realised I could fly," he added.

"Do you know what that entails?" Lumos asked, still kindly as needle of flame. "Do you know what it means to fly away from death and life in such a manner?

"Not really," Harry answered, shaking his head.

"Well, there are interfering factors – the science of it is fragile in best of circumstances," the man mused, leaning back a little. "Just a spark – or flight of spirit – isn't quite enough. You need a certain sort of spiritual calm, acceptance of all things and then distance from them. And, of course, that certain elevation of the body, which you have naturally," he added, glancing Harry from top to toes and then looking away, to the other, frozen magicians around them.

"These people have that too, that elevation. Magic, as you call it, comes from it, from that elevation. Your great inheritance," Lumos mused, sounding a little sad now, before shaking his head and turning to Harry. "To use your analogy, magic makes you able to fly, a calm spirit makes you capable of embracing the air as it is and, finally, the spark of moment, that split second before your last breath, is your lift. If you have all three, you soar."

"Okay," Harry agreed. He could see that – that was what happened. He had magic, his mind was calm, especially so after he and Dumbledore had talked, and then there had been that moment, that decision that he couldn't quite explain. Why had he flown out of the King's Cross, instead of walking back or boarding a train?

Because he had been able to.

"What does it mean?" Harry asked, and got a look of pleased surprise from the man who, he realised, hadn't expected him to be able to inquire.

"Do you know what enlightenment means, Harry? There are many religions on Earth who strive towards enlightenment. Many wizards and witches do too – some of them even achieve it," Lumos said. "That is what you are now – or, what you could be, at this moment. Enlightened – or Ascended, as some call our kind."

"Our kind," Harry repeated and looked at the man more closely – at the way he wasn't really man at all or living or like anything Harry had ever seen. He was more like a… a great blur of power, of energy, surrounded by the illusion of a body. "Am I like you?" Harry asked, looking down at himself. He looked physical to his own eyes. But was he a blur too, with just a cloak of human features drawn over him?

"Not quite. You could be, and for a moment there, you almost were," Lumos agreed and sighed. "Oh, ascension. It entails so many things. Eternity and power, the vastness of universe and all of time – and all the knowledge of those who came before us, and those who join us. The ascended are many, they are whole, and they are individual, they are same and different and they are on the great path of time, moving forever forward, as the universe turns."

"And this by taking flight at the right moment," Harry said, not at all convinced.

"Well, the moment of Ascension is more difficult to achieve than you think. You were fortunate, with luck of one in hundreds of thousands of millions and more," Lumos said, almost chuckling. "But that is not an issue, not right now. The fact of the matter is that it happened to you. One might even call it spontaneous ascension, if one wished to be humorous."

"Has a funny ring to it," Harry agreed, gaining a smile for his words.

"Quite, however, that is just the start of it, the pinprick of a beginning," Lumos said and looked long at Harry. It was a strange, endless and ageless look, not as much assessing this time as it was holding, like a invisible cage. "The ascended, among many many other things, are powerful. The people who wish to join our ranks just for that power are numerous, in fact. But that part of us is… superficial at best – a feature. In those plains of existence where we Ascended roam, such power is nothing but means of expressing one's self. But here, on these physical, these mortal plains, what we have is _godly_."

"Oh," Harry said, thinking. It had been ridiculously easy, to kill Voldemort. He had barely had to put an effort to it. He had needed no wand, no spell, just outstretched hand and…

And it hadn't been just Voldemort. It had been all shards of him too – even if only so many of those still remained. All of what had been Voldemort and had kept him to life was gone – the remaining Horcruxes were just as dead as the man who had made them.

"Harry," Lumos said slowly. "Our kind have rules about that sort of thing," The man looked deep into Harry's eyes – though whether it was actually gaze was hard to tell, it wasn't as if energy had eyes, even if his illusionary shell did. "What you did is murder – the worst sort of murder there is."

"Not, if you know what he's like," Harry argued. "Voldemort is a murderer himself. Worse than any other."

"What he is like, what he was like, doesn't matter," Lumos said, gentle. "Even if he was the worst, most heinous and cruel human being ever to walk upon this planet, the fact is what is it. What you did is utter and unforgivable abuse of the power you have. To us such a thing is an act akin to a human such as the one you were squashing a bug beneath his feet, and all the worse because of it."

"He deserved to die," Harry said, and then added. "If he had lived, he'd just be killing other people."

"Yes, but that is the matter of humans, not of the Ascended," Lumos said, reaching out and grasping Harry by the shoulder. "Let me show you what you did, and what it could be."

And he did. It wasn't exactly like a memory or a thought – it was more like a small reality uncoiling into existence inside Harry's mind, with all the small parts and all the tiny, important possibilities popping in and out until it was formed clear and bright. And there, in that small reality with it's small world and small people, Harry could see what the power like he now had could do. He could kill any human he liked, anywhere, any time, and he saw _how_ he could do it. And not just that, but he could swipe them down like ants on table surface, rearrange the countries and continents like they were pits of cloth, a tablecloth to be changed. He could squash the entire world in his hand, of something _like_ a hand, and it would barely exhaust him.

And many had – many, many had. Ascension hadn't been around forever and those first ones so long ago had went mad with it so easily. And they did it precisely because it was easy – easy to kill and control, rearrange and, in simplest terms, to _play__god_. And so those who had started, had ran away with it, ran _mad_ with it in ways Voldemort never could've. They had controlled and shaped, formed and remade, twisted and turned, changed entire civilisations for what they thought was _for__the__best_.

That itself wasn't as bad – what was bad, was the roar of crying, muffled beneath it all. Beings, sentient living beings of short life spans and physical bodies, crying out, helpless and distant, insignificant. Entire world's full of people, screaming in unspeakable agony.

"When that is what we can do – when that is so _easy_ and so _simple_ and so _tempting_ to do…" Lumos said, and the small reality was gone from Harry's mind, and there was the frozen photograph of a moment instead. "The risk is too great, Harry. And ascension is about enlightenment of one's self. Not about power, or control of any mortal, physical matter. Not even one such as this," he added, pointing at Voldemort's dead body.

Harry said nothing, still shaking after the vision, or feeling, whatever it had been. His emotions were still muffled and thank heavens for that. He could still feel the eons of domination, rolling on and twisting natural evolution out of it's course. He could see it, now, and it was a horrible thing to see.

What did Voldemort, a being of only some haphazard number of decades, matter in comparison to millions of years?

"I see," Harry said, swallowing. Had he done nothing, Voldemort would have still died. Maybe not that day, maybe not that century, but nothing that was physical could remain forever – and Voldemort would've never given up his physical body. In light of that, what had he done? What difference had it made?

"No," he said then, and frowned, looking up. "My friends – my _human_ friends. They're safe from him now. It might mean little in the terms of a planets or a race's existence, but it means something to them," he pointed at the shadow of Hogwarts. "And it matters to me."

"Yes, perhaps," Lumos said, and now he looked disappointed. "It is still what one would call a crime. And among ascended, crimes such as this cannot go unpunished. You understand that, now."

Harry did, and he confirmed it with a nod. He knew, he felt it in his soul now. If one could be allowed to kill a mortal, physical being just like that, then all could do it do – and after that, why not do more? It was easy to slip and slip was all it would take to derail the self control of those beings that Lumos was one of. It couldn't be allowed.

And so, he would be punished for killing the man who had killed his parents. It was an odd thought, but… he could understand.

"Alright," he sighed and looked away. "What will be my punishment?"

"Hm. Well, that is still under consideration," Lumos answered. "You will not be allowed to remain as you are, or keep your ascended powers, obviously – you will be descended back into a physical being. However… what you did is too much, and we cannot just return you to your former existence, as if nothing had happened."

Harry frowned and looked at the man again. "You'll take away my magic?" he asked slowly.

"There is some talk of that," Lumos agreed. "Without it you will not be able to ascend on your own again, which is a notion that would appease many of us. However, magic is something you were born with, as a human being, and the concept of stripping a living creature of those gifts his own evolution granted him with is a… delicate issue."

The man shook his heads. "However, a punishment is called for, and merited. Especially so, when you do not regret."

"I don't. I won't," Harry said firmly. The emotion stillness was fading now, though he couldn't say if it was because of his own strength of emotion, or because he had been released from that bind. It didn't matter – what he felt was firm. Voldemort would kill no one else again – he had made sure of that. His friends were safe from the monster, Hermione, Ron, Ginny, everyone. He would not regret that.

"Yes. A punishment is merited," Lumos said, looking at him sadly and then looking away, and beyond the still moment around them – the prison, Harry realised, that the Ascended had enclosed around him at the moment of his crime. Lumos, unlike Harry, could still see the greater reality beyond it, and the other Ascended there.

"We will return you to your physical life and strip you of what would make you able to Ascend, and banish you from this world," Lumos then said.

"B-banish me?" Harry asked, horrified. "From _Earth_?"

"You committed murder. The punishment cannot fit the crime, but it must be severe," Lumos said, before his hard eyes softened somewhat at the look on Harry's face. "But, as your physical life and success greatly relies on your magical talents, we will not unarm you completely. You can keep one power that your kind has."

"Then I will keep spell casting," Harry said immediately.

"What sort of spell casting?" the man asked. "Do you wish to keep the ability to summon objects to you? Or perhaps the one that allows you to siphon water and pour it out of the air into a cup? Or perhaps you would wish to keep a power that allows you to turn a twig into a rod? You may only keep one, so choose carefully."

"Just one? You mean, I can keep just one type of spell?" Harry asked, a little disbelieving now. What kind of wizard would he be, with one spell? And what would he choose, how could he make the choise of the handy ability of being able to repair things, or the expelliarmus that had saved his life so many times? And what about something like apparation? It was magic too, if he chose a spell, would he be able to apparate?

Probably not – and it would be insidiously slow, making his way trough life without being able to instantly move from place to place as he chose.

"One type of spell craft, one type of ability, nothing else," Lumos said, and at Harry's stricken look he smiled gently. "You may take a moment, to think about it."

Harry nodded, thinking hard, harder than he had ever thought before. There was no escaping this, he knew that, felt it, and the choice would determine his entire _life_ from here on. "Is it… is it just my own spells and such I can choose from?" he asked then, thinking back to Dumbledore's ability to conjure things out of thin air. That, he thought, could be an ability he could survive with. "Or all abilities wizards have?"

Lumos hesitated, looking at nothing for a moment, conversing with the other Ascended, before looking at Harry again. "All abilities wizards have," he said then. "But only those – you cannot choose an ability that no wizard has ever been able to do."

"Okay," Harry said, and thought again. Conjuring would be useful – though he still couldn't help but think that he would be chained, without being able to apparate. But maybe he could still fly? Except… brooms tended to work badly for some wizards of lesser talent. Maybe he could choose Voldemort's ability to fly? No, no, he didn't want that, as cool as it could've been, it was only use for moving, outside that he would be useless and helpless. Maybe some of his defence spells would suit? Shield charm, maybe? Though how many situations would he need a shield charm in?

And… he would be banished. From _Earth_. He knew now that there were other worlds with life – he could feel it. He would be left to one of those no doubt. It was impossible to say what sort of world, now, and he doubted Lumos would tell him. What sort of ability could he use in another world?

For a moment he still leaned on the conjuration. It wasn't actual conjuration, of course, the objects created that way vanished eventually and never had the solidity of the actual thing, but if you could create something, even if temporarily, it could make his life easier. And then, he thought darkly, get him into trouble. He could see the speciality of Earth, now. Humanity of earth wasn't exactly unique, but wizards were, magic was. Very few – if any – other worlds would have that. If he went about creating things that then vanished in a world that had never seen magic before…

There was ways to abuse that, and then be abused in return by those he would've eventually tricked. Conjuration could've been good, but he needed something else – something that would help him survive. And, if the place he was bad or hostile or suspicious of strangers, he needed something that would maybe help him blend in.

Metamorphmagus ability, then? Or animagus? He closed his eyes, thinking hard. Both had their merits – if only he could have them both…

Maybe he could.

"Self-transfiguration," he said, and looked up to Lumos. "I want to be able to change my shape into anything and anyone I want."

The ascended lifted a single eyebrow at him. "Anything and anyone?" he asked thoughtfully, leaning back a little. "Are you certain?"

Harry hesitated and then nodded. If he could turn into any beast or any person, there was no place he couldn't go. Within reason. "Yes," he said.

Lumos considered him for a long moment before nodding in turn. "Very well," he said. "No magician currently has this talent, we are aware, they have one or the other but not both… but it is only the matter of time and development until they do, so you may have it. It will bring you only closer to your body and physicality, and further away from what would ascend you."

"Well, that's good for you," Harry answered, folding his arms. He had never wanted to ascend so it was no big deal for him to lose that, but the loss of magic was something different and he couldn't help but wonder if he ought to have gone with conjuration instead.

No. He had made the right choice, he's certain of that, no matter what his nerves said. "Where will you banish me?" he asked then, wondering. It was no use arguing that either, he knew it was unavoidable, could feel it. All there was left to ponder was what it would be like. Would he left there as he is, or worse? It would be nice to have some things with him – clothing, et cetera. "And… is there any chance I could see what happens here before you do?" he asked, waving a hand at the scene around them.

Lumos eyed him, thoughtful, before nodding. "We will banish you to Abydos – it is the closest to Earth in the gate system. What you do after that is your business," he said, and waved his hand. "But there is no hurry, we can observe the events here, before the inevitable."

"Thank you," Harry nodded, his shoulders slumping a little with relief. At least he would have that, and wouldn't be left in doubt about what had happened. Where he would be left, though, that didn't matter. It could be any place from Mars to Andromeda Galaxy, and it would make no difference. It would still be another world, and he still wouldn't be able to return to earth – the Ascended would make sure of that.

All he could hope was that it was _liveable_, and not a dead rock like Mars.

Lumos smiled, like seeing into his hidden concerns, and then turned away. "Let us look a little behind before we look at now," the ascended said. "Time has moved past this moment in it, I'm afraid, and left you behind, but we can catch up on it with little bit of insight. Brace yourself, Harry."

Harry braced himself, and the world around them turned into blur of colours, of flowing time that rushed back and forward all at the same time, of emotions and cries and sounds – cacophony of simple physical and temporal existence. Then, everything grew still again, and Voldemort was gone from the ground, the death eaters no longer where they had stood, frozen, just a blink ago. The ground was the same, though, they had not moved, but the stage of it had been, cleared – for a different act, than the one that had been paused to hold Harry.

"Now. Let us watch," Lumos said, and the past begun it's replay.

A little intimidated by the sheer… easiness with which the man had rewound time for them, Harry watched. A little further away, hidden in the shadow of the ancient trees of the Forbidden Forest, Voldemort and his Death Eaters waited in a large, firelit clearing, with masks and hoods and some giants hovering about at the edge of the circle of light. Some of them talking, others looking towards the castle with hungry expressions, humans and giants alike. There was a palpable excitement in the air around them, tension and anxiety combined, and confidence. Harry could almost taste it in the air.

"We should go and just take them," Bellarix Lestrange said, glancing between Hogwarts and Voldemort. "My lord, they are weak, they have no hope of matching our strength or numbers. We would take the castle and break them on the stairs in less than half and hour, and then potter would be delivered to your feet, bound and gagged –"

"No. He will come to me by his own force," Voldemort snapped, not glaring at her exactly, but staring a horrible, knowing stare. Like predator, who knew just where to bite for the quickest kill, except worse. Then the Dark Lord chuckled, turning his red eyes to the castle again. "Harry Potter's an idealistic fool, and more than that he's grown to the perception of others. He's a _hero_, now. He will come."

There was a moment of silence, the death eaters looking at each other, before one of them, a man Harry didn't know, spoke tentatively. "And… then what?"

"And then he dies," Voldemort said simply and smiled thinly, already satisfied with something that had yet to occur. He folded his hands idly over the Elder Wand. "And then, with his cooling body as our banner, we will take Hogwarts."

That thought soothed the anxiety of some of the death eaters, it seemed, because they fell into expectant silence. Eventually, as they waited, couple of other death eaters joined them, coming from the castle's direction. Yaxley and Dolohov, Harry thought, remembering seeing them in the forest while he had still been under invisibility cloak, surrounded by his dead family.

Ah, yes, his dead family. He had almost forgotten about that, in the thrall of the ascension. His family, who had came to him from the afterlife, to walk him to his not-death.

"No sign of him, my lord," Dolohov said, rising Voldemort from his contemplation and making him lift his gaze.

Harry could remember it a little clearer now, and could predict the words spoken and moves made. He also knew, that there, just at the edge of the firelight, was himself – hidden beneath his invisibility cloak, unseen and for a moment, still alive.

Voldemort looked almost disappointed, as he lamented how he had thought Harry would come. "It seems I was mistaken," the dark lord said, and then Harry – the Harry of the past, of the memory, who was still a human and a wizard - proclaimed he hadn't been, and all hell broke loose.

While Harry of the present – whatever moment his present was aside – watched the past unravel, Lumos stood beside him, with idle, curious look about his face, and a hum coming from his throat. Hagrid, who Harry only now realised, remembered, had been there too, tied to a tree – he had been too busy looking at the death eaters to remember – was screaming out to stop him, and the death eaters were equally noisy, until they were shouted to silence.

Voldemort spoke his name, his title, furious and hateful and somehow curious at the same time – and then Harry of the past took the green fire of the killing curse without batting an eye. Harry of the present relaxed a little, some uncertainty inside him easing. He hadn't looked afraid, or tense, or even tired or resigned. He had looked… peaceful, as he had fallen to the ground. It was a small thing, but it made him glad.

"Humans do such strange things," Lumos murmured, and Harry wondered if it was worth it to ask what the man meant, before the glow of white, emanating from his own dead self, distracted him.

It was blindingly brilliant, so much so that the death eaters shielded their eyes, and then giants screeched and turned to flee. Harry's own body melted into the light – or maybe turned into it, or maybe it was just inconsequential at that point and just ceased to be – and then there only the glow of white that seemed to spill endlessly out from itself.

The white shape shifted, and some of the shapeless glow firmed itself, until Harry could see some shadow of himself in it – vague and blurry but recognisable as Harry Potter, even if barely.

"What?" Voldemort asked, and the features of Harry Potter amidst the white glow of pure energy shifted, and frowned. There was a crackle of energy and while Voldemort, a little uncertain, lifted his wand, aiming at the white being of energy. Around him the death eaters paled and backed away, even in their horror not too frozen to follow their survival instincts – each and every one of them cleared a open space behind Voldemort, unwilling to get anywhere near the fire zone.

There was sound of thunderclap, and for a moment everything was illuminated by such a bright flash of light that nothing could be seen – and when it was over, Voldemort was flying backwards in the air, one burned hand still held in haphazard defence, other still holding the Elder wand. He landed gracelessly, rolling and skidding on the moist, dark ground before the momentum faded and he grew still – deathly still in the spot where he had laid in the photography of a moment, in Harry's momentary prison.

There was another sound, not quite a thunderclap and not quite as loud, but infinitively more powerful, and the white glowing being that was Harry as an ascended vanished, leaving behind nothing but a pile of empty clothes, a wand and discarded invisibility cloak.

"Huh," Harry said, not entirely sure what he was meant to feel. He remember it, that moment of utter power, but he hadn't realised it had been so short. It had felt like a small eternity – he had felt thousands of people born and die during it, their energies sparking and fading. How strange.

"Quite," Lumos agreed, sounding a little amused now, and then the silence that had followed the dramatic ending of one Lord Voldemort's reign, was broken. Bellatrix Lestrange howled, dashing forward with a speed any sprinter would've been happy to have, and then, still howling, she was at Voldemort's side. A cacophony of noise and action followed, people screamed and yelled at each other, too loud to be understood. Some of them were running, running away by the looks of it, while others dashed towards the castle, and the rest – the majority – stood stock still, too shocked to move, too surprised.

Bellatrix kneeled by her lord, hands shaking, reaching out, and howled again, not quite like a wounded animal but a lost one, lonely one, betrayed one. It was a inhuman sound, followed by another and another, while someone behind her was yelling, "No, no you fools!" at the fleeing Death Eaters.

"That woman really loved him," Lumos noted, giving Harry a sideways glance. "That does not make your regret your actions."

"Of course not. Just makes me gladder," Harry answered, and smiled. He would never regret causing Bellatrix Lestrange some emotional pain – she deserved it, and more.

Lumos sighed and shook his head, and for a long moment was silent, while Fenrir Greyback left the other death eaters behind in order to attack the castle – and all the students inside it – himself. There was someone, Yaxley, who was yelling at the others to get back to order, that they could still win the day, because it wasn't just their lord who was gone, but Harry Potter as well – they could still win, and then they would rule, free of Voldemort reign. Some listened, some didn't.

In the end, Yaxley and Dolohov led the remaining Death Eaters at the castle, Yaxley crouching down to pick up the Elder Wand from Voldemort's hand, before moving past his lord without as backwards glance. Some looked back, but after the majority headed forward, no one stayed. They either joined the attacking party, or fled – all but Bellatrix who remained, weeping at Voldemort's side.

Harry gave Voldemort no second glance either – he knew the man was dead. Instead he turned to follow the attackers and with a sigh Lumos followed, floating more than walking. "Not a word, not one peep, do you hear?" Yaxley was snarling. "No one is to know. We will take the castle like we were going to, we will crush these pathetic fools and if it comes down to it we will burn this rotten place and everyone in it."

"But what about afterwards," someone asked, a young man judging by the sound of his voice. "With our lord gone, what… what is to become of our cause?"

"Someone else will take our lord's place, and continue on," Yaxley said – and it was obvious to everyone, Harry included, who he intended that someone to be.

"You?" someone asked, snorting with disbelief.

Yaxley, seeming to sense the impending arguments, shook his head. "Someone suitable. It could be me, or it could be you, or anyone among out numbers with the skills and the vision," he said. "We will settle it after this battle – if we start squabble about it now, we will never take the castle and all of this will be for nothing."

"Humanity," Lumos said, with the exasperation of a father about his children. Harry shook his head in agreement, as the death eaters bickered in hushed whispers for a momentum, before Rowle snapped at them that Yaxley was right, and that they would need to take the castle first.

"We are more than a headless snake without our lord – we are more than death eaters. We are the aristocracy, the nobles of the magical world, we are _purebloods_," Rowle snarled. "Lets act like it, and make our power known!"

With nods of agreements and jubilant hisses, they agreed – and then turned to Hogwarts.

Harry and Lumos didn't speak, as they followed, and watched how Yaxley called for Hogwarts' surrender, or doom, proclaiming Harry dead and the battle won. There was screaming, disbelief, bitterness and then, with the death eaters being still in disarray and leaderless despite Yaxley's attempts, the fight broke out, unrefined and messy.

Harry watched – and eventually, Harry wept. The witches and wizards he had gone to school with rushed forward with wands out stretched, his teachers and guides in magic dashed forward, and then there was only the glow of wand fire as one side met the other in brutal, chaotic combat. He could see Neville, brandishing his wand as if it was a sword and doing it very well, cutting down Rowle with roar of triumph. Hermione and Ron fought back to back, grim and pale, their eyes shining through grime and sweat, resolute. They didn't believe that he was gone, Harry thought, and then looked at Ginny who fought back to back with Luna, just as grim, just as resolute.

The fighting spilled from the yard to the entrance hall, into the Great Hall and up the stairways. Blasts took parts of the walls and broke balusters while McGonagall led the statues and tables and any bit of useful equipment she could see in battle like general leading her soldiers. Other professors were there too, fighting anyway they could even if all Trelawney could do was lob crystal balls at people, and Sinistra only managed to dazzle people's eyes with incandescent displays of astronomical illusions. Flitwick, small and barely unseen among the fighting, was throwing people down and sweeping them from their feet in great whiplashes of magic, melting them into the floor and walls and binding them in stone, while near by Shacklebolt was a flurry of battle magic so furious, that the air about him flickered and weaved.

Yaxley fell somewhere, staring at the Elder Wand he had been trying to use, but which had failed to bring out as much as a spark. Elsewhere, Hestia Jones crumbled to the ground, much to the roaring anger of the Mundungus Fletcher who had been fighting at her side. Others were falling too – but some were rising, helped up by their comrades in arms, healed on the fly by those who managed it. Most of those, no, all of them, Harry realised, were from the side of Hogwarts. Not one from Hogwarts, from the Order, stayed down.

Then a familiar voice called out, screeching breathlessly. "He's is dead – Potter killed V-Voldemort!" and there was the smallest moment of confused silence, before another roar broke out – the roar of the Hogwarts students and teachers and the members of the Order of Phoenix who, taking heart, pushed forward. Harry could see the glow in their eyes, in Cho's dark eyes and Luna's pale ones and everyone else's, as they fought, moving forward step by step.

Harry could barely keep up with it, before someone screamed in fury, and he saw Ginny and Luna being wrenched by furious Mrs. Weasley, who turned to face their attacker instead – face Bellatrix Lestrange who leered with mad bloodlust of the utterly insane. A circle of wide open space formed around them, and most eyes turned on those two facing each other. And while Harry wondered, when had Bellatrix joined the fight, the battle was concentrated until Mrs. Weasley and Bellatrix Lestrange were the only ones fighting.

Avatars of the two sides of the battle, he realised as he watched them circle each other. Bellatrix hissed and Mrs. Weasley scowled and the tension built. If Harry had been there, if Voldemort had still been alive, it would've been them that their sides would've thrown their bets at.

"He's dead, you know. Poor little baby Potter," Bellatrix leered, her hand twitching as she clenched her wand, held aimed at her opponent. "My lord killed him - batted him down like a fly! And now he's worm food, just like poor little Fweddie!"

"Bitch," Mrs. Weasley answered, and as Bellatrix opened her mouth for another insult, or maybe a laugh, she lashed out like attacking tiger, ferocious more than fast, and utterly unexpected.

The fight was quick – it wasn't really a fight at all. Bellatrix didn't get the chance to defend or attack and fell to a flash Mrs. Weasley's curse, taking it straight to her chest, and then falling down with a shocked look about her face. That shock was reflected on the faces of the others and, before anyone even realised, the battle had been fought, and won.

Harry turned away, unable to look anymore. He felt weak with relief and with strange, gut wrenching guilt about not being there in person, not being there to help. This time too had already passed – it was a memory of a moment already gone. And with that knowledge, he knew what would follow, no, what _had__followed_.

The death eaters had been captured – most of them anyway. Some had escaped, of course. The giants had been captured too, still in their mad dash away from the light that had already vanished. The dementors had been taken down – they had gone loose at Voldemort's death, and had never joined the battle really, and had instead attacked some of the fleeing death eaters, easier, tastier preys in their state of horror and fear. And so, the war had ended.

Harry buried his face into his hands for a moment, and could sense how the memory of time faded away around him – the illusion of what had been trickling away as Lumos realised that the replay was no longer necessary. "Did they figure out what happened to me?" Harry asked, without looking up.

"Not precisely, no, but they have theories, and will have many more," Lumos said, and he looked a little amused again. Amused and firm. "You might have started a religion, with your brief _return__from__the__death_."

The wizard nodded, and shook his head. Another crime of the ascended, he supposed and sat down. He couldn't say what he was sitting on, exactly, there was nothing _there_, but he was sitting. "I don't suppose I could go and tell my friends goodbye?" he asked.

"I'm afraid not," Lumos said.

"How about some of my things, personal possessions. Any chance I could get some of those?" Harry asked, and Lumos only shook his head, making him sigh. He didn't really mind, he had some things he was a little attached to, the invisibility cloak, his broom, the pouch Hagrid had given him, his wand… but in light of things, they didn't really matter that much. "Then, could I at least… know what will happen to my friends?" he asked quietly. He wanted, needed to know that Hermione and Ron – and Ginny – would be alright.

"That's a future that hasn't come to pass yet, but… perhaps eventually," Lumos said, and crouched down before him, smiling again. "You are a criminal, Harry Potter, a Murderer and an Outcast of the Ascended. Are you ready for your punishment?"

Harry sighed. He wanted to ask for more, to plead, but… he had already been granted one wish. He had seen how the fight had ended, and he knew who had and hadn't survived. It would have to be enough – he knew he wouldn't be allowed more. "As ready as I'll ever be," he said. "What is Abydos like?"

"You will see," Lumos promised, and everything faded to bright shining light.

xx

Yes, yes, I know Lumos is an ass. It might be a plot point. The year currently in this is 1998 in both HP and SG sides, so, around second season of SG1.

My apologies about possible grammar errors, etc.


	2. Chapter 2

Warnings; ShapeShifter!Harry and stuff. The year is currently 1998, in both HP and SG

**Journeyman  
2.**

Abydos was hot, blindingly brilliant, and sandy. Every direction Harry looked, there was nothing but sand dunes, endless and vast, bigger than an ocean and infinitely more wearisome. Harry supposed he should've been glad that it was _warm_ instead of having something like below eighty Celsius or something, and that it had atmosphere, but really…

Sighing, he sat where he had woken up, more than little uncomfortable to sit on the sand without a shred of clothing to stop it from getting into awkward places. He wished he could've convinced himself for a moment, just a small fraction of time, that this was a dream, a nightmare, a hallucination, anything. That he could've, just for a brief second or two, convinced himself that any moment now he would wake up at the Shell Cottage, and the world would be as it had been, couple of days back. Self delusion would've been _brilliant_, at this point.

But he had never been good at that, and he knew, felt it in his bones. This was no dream. It couldn't be, no dream was so cruel as to leave him hollow of his magic – though he had to admit, he had had dreams of finding himself alone, naked, in strange places, but a sandy desert hadn't been one of those place. And he had never had a dream where he knew, with painful clarity, that he would very soon die of thirst.

"And here I thought I was sentenced with banishment, not slow, torturous execution," he muttered, running a hand over his hair. He had sand in it already, grains of it having lodged themselves at the roots of his hair where they itched and scratched. Lowering his hand, he stared at the sand under his fingernails with dismay. Being killed by a bolt of lightning would've been kinder than this.

He let his hand fall and for a long while just stared at the sun scorched, lifeless desert. Then he shook his head and stood up, brushing the sand from his skin as well as he could and then peering around. He wouldn't help himself in the slightest, just sitting around, waiting for death. He might as well die on his feet, trying, than sitting around, having quit before making any effort.

One direction or another, it made no difference, they all looked the same, and picking one at random was easily enough done. With a final brush over his backside to get the grains of sand off, he set out. It took some hundred or so steps to figure out how to not walk in sand – it slipped and sank beneath his feet, and it felt a little like wading through mud at times except for the fact that he had the stuff between his toes and it scratched and he really couldn't walk normally in it, especially with bare feet. It would probably take a while longer, to learn how to walk on it properly.

Well, time he had. Time and sand and heat.

At first, he just walked, his mind blissfully dull and thoughtless, still too shocked by what had happened to be able to really think about it. He hadn't thought that it wasn't happening at any point, not really, but the fact that it really had happened hadn't yet sunk in completely, and Harry was more than happy to let it float a while longer. And so he walked, sweating and uncomfortable and soon starting to notice rapidly developing sunburns on his shoulders and back and other places where the sun's light steadily fell.

The scenery didn't change, not after thousand steps, not after four thousand. It was only sand and sand and little more sand, with bright blue sky above and of course the sun at his back, glaring at him. He pondered idly for some time whether the planet had anything else but sun and sand, if he really would die of thirst no matter what he did, but the thought slipped away under the heat, too heavy to hold.

The burns on his shoulder grew from annoying to uncomfortable and eventually unbearable, with speed that made him wonder about the sun of this world in comparison to the one he was more used to. Hermione would've had an ointment for it of course, he thought, both about the sunburns and the blisters he was noticing in his feet, and that was when it started to sink in.

He would never see Hermione again, she would never again offer him an advice or reference or ointment for anything. Nor would Ron be there, with his awkward smile and pats on the back and wavering loyalty that didn't always hold up on it's own against human fears. He would never see Ginny again either, never find out whether or not he had really loved her or if she had really grown up to be just that beautiful that it hadn't seemed to matter.

"Damn it," he muttered, grimacing. As far as bad things that happened to him, being banished from his world wasn't that bad – magical world had done that on regular bases, every time Hogwarts term ended and he had to go back to Dursleys. Losing his magic wasn't _that_ bad either. It had been wonderful, but he had lived eleven years without it before, he knew he could do it again if he put his mind to it. But losing his friends? His family?

No more hugs from Mrs. Weasley, or approving looks from Mr. Weasley. Remus was dead, as was Tonks, and he would never see their graves. And Merlin, Teddy, his _godson_. He hadn't even thought of him, and now…

He didn't regret what he had done. Harry was resolute at that, he didn't and wouldn't regret, Voldemort had both deserved and needed to die. Earth was better place without him, there was absolutely no doubt of that. He would _not_ regret killing the man.

But… he did regret killing him as an Ascended, and being judged by the Ascended for it.

Sighing, Harry rubbed his hands over his itching neck and looked up to the sky. How long were days here, it seemed like he had been walking endlessly but the sun was still right on top of him, it seemed. If it was like this all over, all the time, and the sun never set, he didn't know if he could manage it.

"I never wanted to ascend," he said, to no one in particular. Lumos might've still been around, listening, but it didn't really matter. "And I didn't know about their damned rules." Yeah, well, it didn't make any difference, and he didn't pretend it did. It was no different from if he would've marched to Hogwarts and started killing people, and then plead in court that he hadn't known that wizards had laws against that sort of thing. And he couldn't even say that in war time things like that were allowed – the Ascended weren't in war with Voldemort, after all.

It really sucked that he could understand it. It would've been lovely to have some high ground, even if ill conceived one.

He kept on walking because there was little else to do. For a while he wondered if he ought to try and see if the ascended really had given him the ability to transform himself when they had hollowed him of magic, but he didn't have the energy for it – walking at least didn't take that much concentration, and had no danger of going horribly, lethally wrong. He didn't know for how long he walked, the minutes stretched endlessly on and on and it was hard to say how much time really passed and how much it _seemed_ to pass, before something caught his attention.

Soft hissing over the sand, not far from him. He stopped, not as much startled as he was relieved to have something break the hot, sandy monotony, Harry looked down.

There was a snake on the sand, sandy brown and at first just barely visible at all, but as Harry stared at it, trying to see what it was, it's shape, coiled in to itself, became more clear.

"Hm," he noted, and crouched down, resting his arms on his knees and eying the hissing creature. "Well, this is something," he said. At least now he knew there was life in the place. Snakes meant there was something for them to eat, after all. And it was also somewhat safe to say that there was water somewhere in the planet. That was good for him.

The snake hissed at him, unintelligible, and Harry tilted his head a little. "do you understand me?" he asked, concentrating onto the creature. Obviously it didn't, because it jerked, coiling tighter, looking like it was preparing to spring at him. And, before Harry could try saying anything else, it stopped looking like it was about to spring at him, and actually sprang at him.

There was something Harry had that hadn't came from magic, and hadn't been taken away, he realised after the Quidditch instincts had already kicked in, and he had caught the snake in mid attack by the base of it's neck. It hissed and trashed furiously at him, sinuous body coiling and uncoiling before it wrapped itself desperatelly around his wrist, writhing and trying to squeeze the life out of his hand.

"Rude of you," Harry noted, turning the snake's head to his direction, to look at it into the eyes. Parseltongue was something he doubted he would really miss, as he had never really had much use for the talent, but it would've came in handy now, to know what the snake knew of this world. It's existence was already something, but it would've been more useful to know where it came from and if there was any water there.

As Harry stared at the snake, trying to figure out what to do with it or how to get rid of it without getting bitten for his troubles, something in the back of his mind jerked awake, and took notice. Snakes had interesting physique, it noticed, all spine and length and still somehow they were among the most agile creatures he knew of. No legs and no hands, and still they were among best climbers, hunters – and they could move really fast if they needed to.

That part of his mind that felt new and raw and yet natural wondered, almost absently, what it would feel like, to be a snake.

Harry blinked, and turned the snake in his hand, looking at it more closely. What would it be like, really, to be a snake? All tail and neck, crawling on his belly, with scales in place of skin, with long snout and no eyelids, with tongue for nose and venomous fangs for weapon? All long muscles and long innards, one torso, the whole body.

The snake, he mused, was much better equipped than he was, to handle the desert. He was all pink and pale and already getting the sunburn of his life, not to mention about his sand scorched feet. He was sweaty, miserable, already getting tired and just clumsy. To be a snake…

Well. Why not.

As the snake fell from the hand that was first there, then shrinking, scaling, and finally gone, Harry only had a small moment to think that, really, it ought to have been harder. It felt strange, and entirely too fast, more like flicking a switch than performing magic, and then he was down on his belly, feeling a little dizzy from going from big to small so fast. As he shook his head, which felt oddly big and long considering how small it was, he stared – couldn't stop himself from staring, snakes couldn't close their eyes after all – and realised that, no, it wasn't that easy.

And that was when the snake he had dropped sprung at him again, this time with greater success thanks to having equal opponent. It aimed for his coils with sharp precision, fangs outstretched and gleaming in the sunlight, jaws seeming impossibly large, and Harry only saved himself from a painful bite by what felt more like miraculous luck than instinct, as he shifted away from the oncoming attack, rather than straight to it.

"Shit!" he snarled, as the other snake's jaws snapped shut, and it twisted, coils twisting expertly for another attack, ready to strike again.

"Hawk droppings!" the other snake spat back, and Harry could only stare at him – no, her – in astonishment, before having to hurriedly scoot back as the snake made for another attack.

"Wait, wait, what?" Harry asked desperately. "Hey, stop it, what did I do for you?"

"You came and you exist, and you nearly trampled me," the other snake snarled, but didn't strike again, rattling her scales instead and glaring at him. But it was speaking – and not in Parseltongue, it didn't seem at all like Parseltongue. This was something else, something… natural. "What do you want, worm?"

"To rewind time by couple of days, not get myself banished to a desert, peace for all magicians and death of Voldemort in a way that doesn't send me into exile," Harry muttered, shaking his head. It felt strange and unnatural move to perform, as a snake. "Right now I will settle for life and some information."

"What are you talking about, you insane slug?" the female snake asked irritably, her tail end twitching. "Explain yourself, before I bite you and silence you forever!"

"Um, right," the man-in-snake-body answered. What had he wanted to ask the snake? About the world, right. But what could he ask, in way a creature that lived all her life in a desert and probably had never looked much father than her own tail could understand? What was his most urgent need. "Could you tell me if there is any water near by?"

"Water?" the other snake scoffed. "One gets enough water from vermin."

"I'm sure one would, but I would still like to find some actual water," Harry answered. "Is there any near by, oasis or something?"

The female snake rattled her scales, before scoffing again, utterly disgusted with him. "Unnatural worm," she said, and then looked away. "That way. There is one of those human contraptions there, where water comes from. I hunt for bird eggs in the grass sometimes," she added and then gave him a sharp look. "Are you thinking of making yourself comfortable there, worm?"

"No, I just want something to drink," Harry answered, perking a little at her mention of humans. Humans, as in… _humans_? Like on Earth? "Are there any humans around?" he asked eagerly.

"Not often," she answered and hissed at him, her coils shifting uneasily like she wasn't sure if she ought to strike at him or not.

"Okay. Well, thanks," Harry said, and figured that he had tempted her ire for long enough. "I'm going to change back into one, now. If you know what's good for you, you'll turn tail right now and slither away – try and bite me again and I'll snap your neck."

She hissed and snarled in irritation and anger, and as Harry turned his thoughts inward, wondering if changing back would be as easy and changing into a snake had been, she had already turned and slithered away, leaving behind only slithering waves in the sand after her.

Changing back was actually easier than it had been to change to a snake. There was definite feeling in it, feel of bones shifting, muscles growing, sinews stretching, but it wasn't bad feeling. It actually felt like he had stretched himself out a bit, both uncomfortable and utterly relieving and in the end it only left him relaxed.

He let out a breath he hadn't even realised he had held as a snake, and looked at his hands. Human hands, no scales, nothing. Perfect, smooth, painless transformation, as easy as anything.

He had to give the Ascended one thing; they knew what they were doing, as far as powers like this came. If all the other transformations would be the same, he wouldn't be in as bad a state as he had thought. It was especially relieving since he had doubted a little that he would be actually able to transform – the ascended could've just pretend that he had never been offered a power, and left him to rot, but no. apparently they kept their promises, at least.

Now, if only they had known the also to not ditch him in middle of a desert, he would've give them a little more credit. Well, no matter. He had goal and a direction and knew that he had at least one small ace in his nonexistent sleeve. That was better than nothing.

x

It took him who knew how long to get to the place, but he got there. It was awkward way to make, with his feet feeling even worse, and his back burning hot and aching awkwardly, but he made it resolutely as human. Mostly because of the other snake's mention of hawks – he did not want to make the way as a snake, no matter how much more comfortable it would've been, if there was a chance that a hawk would plummet from the sky at any moment, and snatch him up.

The place, in the end, wasn't all that impressive. it was a well, rocky protrusion sticking out from spot in the desert, where it wasn't as much sandy as it was rocky. There was some grass growing around the well, some moss on the inside of it, but the most admirable thing the place had was a tall, thorny bush, big enough to be called a tree, which offered some awkward protection from the sun's glaring light.

After using the crude bucket at the end of even cruder rope to haul himself up a half a pail full of water, most of it to drink and rest to use to wash his burning back, he sank into the shadow of the bush with eager relief, stretching himself out on his stomach and lying his cheek down into the just slightly cooler grass. Then he slept, too weary from walking and from the events that had brought him there to fight it or even muster up a thought of why he should.

It was dark when he woke, dark and freezing cold. He was shaking before he was fully aware, his legs and bones aching, his back still burning but a little less – and little worse because of it. He lifted his head, his neck stiff and painful from having had his head in position he rarely if ever slept in, his head pounding. But that was very little, in comparison to the extra ordinary cold, especially so in comparison of the heat of before. It was a small wonder his breath didn't come out in puffs of steam.

Shaking, Harry pushed himself up to his knees, his hands coming to brace his shoulders in faint attempt of warming himself up. As he does, there is a rustle of something, and a odd, throaty squawks. Looking up, Harry sees two enormous vultures, sitting on the edge of the well, some of them flapping it's wings, both of them staring at him intently.

Oh, great, he thought, staring at the birds. Someone else after his hind.

"I'm not going to die, so you two can just as well be off," he snapped at the birds, who squawked back , one of them turning on it's perch and taking wing clumsily, but the other staying and staring at him, at the way he was shaking, and Harry realised that what he had said wasn't necessarily true.

He might not be dying yet, but he was naked, cold as hell, alone, and even the small relief of having found water wasn't likely to keep him alive. If he didn't get pneumonia from the cold night, he'd probably starve to death, unless he found something to eat. It had been easy to ignore in the day, the hunger, the walking and the sunburn had been bad enough to overcome the sensation, but it was more pronounced now, tearing at his innards. And the shivering only made it easier to feel.

As the vulture stared at him, like wanting to eat him, Harry stared back in what soon became exact same stare. Could people eat vultures? As soon as the thought came to him, vague and haphazard as it was, he snorted. He had no way of killing the bird, now way of catching it – and even if he did, how would he cook it, skin it, anything? It wasn't like there was much firewood around. Though, maybe, if he caught, it killed it, and somehow managed to get it to pieces, then maybe he could turn into a snake and…

No. maybe when he was at the peak of starvation, but… not yet. It did rise an interesting notion. The snake he had met obviously survived in the desert, despite the hot days and the cold nights. Maybe if he turned into it, he'd manage it better?

Or, not, he thought, giving the bird uneasy look. It didn't look that threatening to him, with his experience with owls, hippogriffs and thestrals, but to a small snake it would be gigantic. The vulture would eat the snake in couple of bites, probably. And besides, snakes got slow and idle when they got cold, didn't they? He didn't want that, and he definitely didn't want that while there was a great big bird of prey in front of him. Even if vultures weren't exactly hunting birds.

Harry narrowed his eyes and eyed the bird. That part of him that still felt a little new and little foreign reared it's head again. He knew enough about bird anatomy to guess how a vulture's came together. It had thick coat of plumage and didn't look at all bothered by the cold. He doubted he could ever eat like a vulture, but survive as one? It would be infinitely easier, than as a clumsy, pink skinned human. And on wing, if he managed flight… he could cover much greater distances and he could ever as a human.

And, he backtracked, he could fly. _Fly_. Swallowing, Harry unwrapped his arms from around his torso. As a bid he could fly. He had already given up that notion as something lost and to be longed for, without magic he could never manage it he had thought, but…

He shifted on his knees and stared the bird so intently, that it let out an odd, quaffing noise and turned to fly away. As it did, Harry stared at it's wings keenly, at the tail, the almost bare neck and the angle it stood, the stillness of the head.

He was sprouting feathers from his arms before he could even begin to wonder, if he could turn into more than one sort of animal. The change, like with the snake, came upon him easily, and unlike how it had felt when he had returned to human shape, this time it felt like he was drawing in on himself, curling down. His legs shrivelled and shrunk and grew talons, his body shifted and reformed itself, and his arms and fingers shifted, shortened there and lengthened there, and the skin between his fingers grew out – and before he had managed to register all the minute, quick changes, he was already a vulture.

Too relieved to no longer feel like he was freezing to death, Harry unfurled his hands – his wings – and stared at the long, grey-brown feathers. They lacked the elegance of owl's wings, but they were big, magnificent in a way – and heaven, the feathers were warm. Much warmer than naked skin.

Hopping awkwardly from one foot to the other, Harry turned his head to look at himself from every angle his long neck managed to turn, finding his tail and marvelling how easy it was to move it. He puffed out his feathers and then smoothed them back, preening couple of them down in the way he had once seen Hedwig to, and decided that he was actually pretty comfortable as a vulture.

With that thought, he shifted himself into position his bird body found comfortable, and settled back down. The feel of his aching legs and sunburn was still there, but vague, distant, and his hunger was still ravenous, but the vulture physique handled it better. He was still tired, though, and there was little he could do about the hunger, so he closed his eyes, and drifted back to sleep.

x

The next morning, after quick shift in and out of human body to haul up a bucket of water to drink and wash, Harry examined the wings of his third form. If they had seemed big before, they seemed even bigger now, in the glaring sunlight and looked at from the angle of a vulture, as he spread them out. He felt even a little smothered by them, feeling a little like his hands had suddenly grown longer than his body, not to mention about being wider. But they were light and strong and, well. They were _wings_.

And it took little more than couple of awkward, clumsy beats of them to get aloft. They pushed at the air and tore him away from gravity so easily, that he nearly fell down immediately because of his surprise, only managing to right himself barely before crashing right into the well. His flight, after some wing beats and moment to figure out which way his tail feathers ought to go, was still clumsy and if there had been a such stumbling flight, that would've been what he was doing. He didn't dare to rise high, in case he fell, and didn't dare to go far just yet… but he flew.

As he landed back down, after ten or so minutes of flying and awkward, lopsided gliding, he landed back down, nearly tumbling over before realising that he ought to hop a bit to stop his momentum. Even that, or the clumsiness of it all, didn't ease the feeling that it had came so easily – a little too easily, even. He had never gotten anything in his life easily – especially not high level magic.

But then… this, neither the transformation into animal or back again, really felt like magic.

Folding and unfurling his wings a couple of times to see how they settled down and which was the quickest way to spread them, Harry pondered about it for a moment. He had been turned into something else, once, in transfiguration class during his fifth year, with McGonagall demonstrating the art of human transfiguration and how it felt to person transfigured. It had felt like being knocked unconscious and then shaken to wakefulness, with the transfiguration settling in between, unfelt. This was nothing like that – nor was it like what he had figured animagus transformation was like. When Sirius had done it, it had been smooth and quick, but awkward, and just a tad unnatural. With Sirius there had been very little doubt of whether or not he had been an actual dog.

The closest Harry figured his ability was related to, was probably the natural ability of the metamorphmagi. Tonks had had to concentrate to do it, but she had done it with ease – and hadn't Remus said that Teddy changed his hair colour already when newborn?

Unfolding his wings again, Harry stretched them out, feeling them. That new, raw part of him which was becoming harder to tell apart from the rest of him, was absently noting small things. Wing joints and hollow bones and where flesh of the wings ended, and the feathers took over. All of it felt like… him. Like the vulture was as much _him_ as his own human body was.

And, maybe, it was. It was no illusion, no temporary transformation, nothing like it – it was a physical transformation and the feathers of the vulture were as much his as the scales of a snake and skin of a human. It… probably wasn't magic at all. There was some magic in it, had to be, but more than that it felt more like biology, than mysticism.

"Well, whatever it is, it works for me," he said, cawing and quaffing the words throatily, and shook his wings once, before beating himself up to the air. He could ponder on the whole thing later. Right now he was really starting to feel his hunger – and the longer he sat around admiring himself, the less time he had to try and find _something_ that would keep him from starving to death.

He wished to find people, or maybe some more plants than thorny bushes and dried up grass, anything, but soon he supposed he wouldn't mind a two day old dead thing to gnaw at as a vulture. Hunger, unlike the irritating sunburn, went nowhere when he shifted shapes.

After leaving the well behind, hoping that he was at least going to the approximate right direction, he found out that vulture was perhaps one of the more useful shapes he could've thought to try at that point. As updraft of hot wind pushed at him and he fought to stay level in it, he found that he could stay pretty much still, just have his wings open, and still go _upward_ without much effort. And he could glide seemingly endlessly, his wings catching the wind expertly and harnessing it in way he had never managed to harness a broom. He counted, and found he could stay aloft and moving with some semblance of grace for minutes on end, without ever beating his wings.

And the speed. It was nothing compared to that of a high quality broom, but in comparison to walking on bare human feet? It was definitely an improvement. The dunes, which had seemed insurmountable, rose beneath him like ocean waves and were left behind quickly. He couldn't gauge the distance with any precision, but he suspected that after mere half an hour, he had already gone further than he could've in several hours as human.

What eventually slowed was, predictably enough, the hunger. It gnawed at him, and he begun to feel a little faint. It was a easy sensation to handle as a vulture – obviously a creature that could handle starving for a while – but the strain of having no extra energy to burn was starting to feel in his wings. The day hadn't even started to turn into an afternoon, when he had already started to wonder about stopping.

He kept flying, because he couldn't really do much else, and if he stopped he might not get up again. The dunes waved on and on, endless, until finally he caught the sight of something small and lack in the air, circling. A bird maybe – no, definitely, the thing was small but it definitely had wings.

Thinking it another vulture Harry turned to head for it, a little ill at the thought of what he might find, but willing to go for it. There was only so many things, that made vultures circle – and right then, he would much rather eat from a carcass of some poor desert animal, than die.

It wasn't a vulture, it turned out, but something smaller and infinitely more graceful. A falcon, some instinct he hadn't had before said, as eyed the other creature from afar. It was there, in the smooth line of the other avian's wings, which looked little like the blades of a scythe. The calls, shrill and reaching, were also telling, and the longer he looked, the more certain he became. Even at the distance, he could see the beak, the shoulders, the head, the keen eyes.

Vultures had really extra ordinarily good eyes.

But what was more interesting than the hawk, was what it was circling. Below it there was no carcass for a vulture to feast on, nor a well or oasis. Instead there was a camp of couple of dark tents, with dark cloaked figure walking about them, and towards to string of camels strapped to one of the tent poles, to take something from the enormous baskets they were carrying.

A human. Harry caught a updraft of wind and hovered on it, wings spread wide and eyes set on the camp. The hand with which the figure reached was definitely a human hand, and so was the form. A human, with camels, and a camp – and as he watched, another dark cloaked figure shifted and came out, with head wrapped in scarves and a loose bag of sorts in his – or her – hands.

For a moment the vulture-shaped-man just stared, basking in the sight and knowledge that he wasn't the only human in the world, in Abydos. Then his mind flew into thinking, wondering. They were a caravan, obviously, and there was probably more men in it than just two – there was twenty camels at least, and they were carrying some heavy loads. So, they were probably going somewhere. Caravan of travellers, maybe merchants of something, it didn't matter.

What mattered was that they probably had food.

Smothering the urge to just drop down and see if he could snatch something, anything, to eat, Harry hovered a while longer, weighing his options. He was then startled by a sharp whistle sounded from the camp, from the man who had stepped out. The falcon Harry had seen ducked into a dive and landed onto the man's awaiting, gloved hand, settling down with a shrill noise and greedily accepting the shred of meat the man offered it.

Swallowing a caw of longing, Harry watched the falcon gobble the meat, before the man hooded the creature and carried it inside the tent, the meat with it, never noticing the vulture hovering above. The other man tended to the camels and then sat down near by on a rough dark mat he had spread out, apparently in a guard duty.

The hunger tore at his stomach a little more insistently, but Harry held back. Knowing that he could never manage a graceful sneak in to steal no doubt closely guarded food as a vulture without being noticed, Harry angled back, a little further away, and landed where the guard wouldn't be watching.

There, hiding in the valley between sandy dunes, Harry attempted something he might've not tried, if he hadn't been so hungry and desperate, and shifted straight from vulture form into snake one, without stopping to be a human in between. It was a small relief that it happened just as easily as transformations between human and animal did, but right then he was too eager to stop and think it through. Instead, he spent half a minute figuring out how to slither properly, and then he begun making his way up the sandy hill, coming at the camp from the rear, where the tents would be between him and the guard.

He probably left behind more tracks than a proper, accustomed snake would've, as not all of his slithering motions worked that well and he nearly got himself buried in sand a couple of times, but he didn't care. It took longer than he had thought it would, but he got to the tents eventually, and remained unnoticed, his light shading making him blend in with the golden sand perfectly. One there, though, figuring out the next step was a little bit harder. The tents were rightly sealed – they didn't just have walls and roof, but also a floor of, all of the thick, oiled cloth stitched tightly together, probably to keep the sand at bay, and there was no way inside that he could see.

Or so he thought, until he had spent some minutes prowling the outside of the tents, and found a larger seam than the others where a leather strap had been bound between holes in the tent, probably when the thing had been pitched up. – and the bottom of the seam was just tiniest bit open. It would've been too small for a man to get his hand through, vulture might've gotten it's head into it, but for a small snake it was perfect.

Harry barely dared to stick out a nose through the hole, and his tongue flicked out to taste the air without his conscious decision, trying to get the sense of the place. He could hear speaking, but the words were of language he didn't know – all the voices were male but for one, an old woman who was laughing softly. That aside, the tent seemed dark – and Harry realised that it was just the shadow of something set just in front of his nose that made it seem dark, something big and soft, bag or something like that, maybe, and when he dared to push further in he found that he was completely hidden behind it.

And then he smelled, tasted, something that made his snake body freeze. Blood and something else, which for human would've been fairly disgusting, but for the tongue of a snake smelled appetising instead. Flicking his tongue over the air again, Harry lifted his head, slow, very slow, trying to look everywhere at once, and found that the dark thing in front of the tent's large seam wasn't a bag, but a pillow.

And that there was a sort of thin, spotted cat lying on it, giving birth. It was only then he heard the tiny kittenish noises of already birthed kittens, who were eagerly pawing at their mother's belly, while the adult cat licked and bit at the bloody membrane still surrounding the most recent kitten.

At first, Harry was seized by the thought of snatching up one of them – they were just small enough that he could swallow one whole, maybe couple even, before he came back to his senses and coiled back into himself, disgusted. He might've been in a snake form, but he was a human being – and he rather liked cats, really, even if right now the new born ones smelled very much like food. Besides, if he would attack, the mother of the kittens would no doubt attack him, and the humans would notice, and he would probably get his head cut off for his troubles.

Shivering with hunger and suppressed instinct to strike at the feast before him, Harry sat still for a moment. The fresh kitten and blood smell wasn't the only thing that smelled like food, though. There was something else too, he realised, a meaty smell came from just at the other side of the pillow, and cautiously peeking around it to look, he saw a couple of dishes set there, one with water in it, and another with some ragged pieces of meat, looking like they had been dried and then moistened again, and smelling absolutely delicious. It was, he realised, the mother cat's meal.

For a moment he considered trying to snatch a few bites, maybe dragging the dish back behind the cushion and eating the lot of the meat, but decided against it. He doubted the cat was distracted enough to not notice a predator stealing her meal. And besides, it might be good enough meal for a snake, but not for a man – and what would he do, after that? Even if filling his snake belly would fill his human one – and he wasn't entirely sure how that worked – it wouldn't be long until he would find himself starving again. He needed food now, sure. But he also needed food in the future.

Withdrawing back into the shadow, he considered the cats again. The mother cat was kept by the people here, and fed no doubt regularly – she was thin but healthy looking, the slightness of her body more due to her long frame, than starvation. The kittens would probably be well kept too. He could, maybe…

His tail end flicking in thought, he considered the pros and cons of that notion. It was not just a little strange – and more than little bit awkward, considering that the kittens were all newborns and would be suckling who knew how long… but they would be kept, and as far as he could see none of the humans was paying much attention to the birthing cat, too busy playing some sort of game with bits of bone. No one was counting the new kittens.

And, as one of them, he would get a free ride to where-ever the men were going.

More than little uneasy, he peaked up and at the kittens again. Cat physiology was easy enough, he thought. Four limbs, two eyes, ears, innards not that different from humans even if smaller, differently placed, and so forth… he had some experience with all of it. The tail was a different thing, but he had gotten used to those too, as a vulture.

And then he was he was already sliding out of the body of a snake and into even smaller form of a kitten, shrinking and growing legs as he did. Then he was a kitten, and not just that but a new born one, utterly helpless and fragile, his eyes unwilling to open and his limbs all shaking with the sheer newness of his muscles. He started letting out tiny kitten mews before realising, as he breathed in and found it hurt his lungs a bit, his nose felt weird, he was cold and he couldn't _see._

Next thing he knew, jaws were closing on his neck and his body curled automatically, his tail coming up between his legs and his paws coming closer to his body, as the mother cat reached and lifted him up from the floor, and to her side.

He was suddenly warm, surrounded by softness at two sides, shifting on his left, and beneath his weak, widespread paws he felt the furry belly of the mother cat, radiating welcoming heat. He froze with shock and surprise, turning his head weakly and clumsily from side to side and trying to see. His eyes wouldn't open though, and he realised that the shifting beside him was one of the other kittens only because he had seen them worming their way about their mother's side in search for nips.

If the people of the tent noticed the new kitten, they said nothing, just continued their cajoling, bursting into joined laugher at something one of them had said, and continuing on with whatever they had been doing before, none the wiser.

A rough drag ran over his forehead and ear, down his neck, once and twice before the mother cat was nudging at him. "Go on," she purred in low, affectionate tones. "Feed, little one. I've been fed well, and you only have one brother and two sisters yet. There's aplenty." She nudged at him again and Harry realised that she was trying to direct him at a nip – and that this had been a pretty bad idea.

He ought to have waited, sat back as a snake and snatched choice bits from the mother cat's plate, and waited for his chance, maybe became a kitten when they were weaned and could eat actual food, rather than right now. Or he ought to have just, maybe, snatched up a kitten to eat and dashed away, and then figured another way to join the caravan without being noticed. Or maybe he ought to have approached it as a human – maybe the people would've welcomed him, even if he was a naked and couldn't understand a word they spoke.

The mother cat nudged at him again and, just like as a snake, Harry found the natural instincts of a newborn body kicking in. Powered by his own hunger, plus the hunger of a body that had never been fed, all thoughts fled and he found himself utterly unable to decline the easily accessible food.

If he would one day tell someone about his first days in Abydos, he would probably forgo that part in his tale. That and the rest of the care a mother cat offered to her newborn kittens.

xx

My apologies for possible grammar errors and such.


	3. Chapter 3

Warnings; ShapeShifter!Harry and stuff. The year is currently 1998 in the story.

**Journeyman  
3.**

Harry was a kitten for good two weeks. The first week went as it did mostly because he couldn't be anything else. Though his kitten body grew as time passed, and thank heavens for that, it was too helpless for him to manage… anything. All he could do was sleep and eat and occasionally whimper awkwardly – and transforming into anything else was out of question. Surrounded by kittens so fragile that the weight of man's limb was enough to crush them, not to mention about the humans of the caravan, it was simply too risky.

The time passed quickly and comfortably, though, a little too much so, in fact. He slept most of the first week, long cat naps between feedings, cuddled either to the mother cat's belly, listening to her purring or soft voice, or lying in a pile with the other kittens. He certainly didn't mind it, those first few days, after all the walking and flying, and even after the third day when it got tiresome it wasn't exactly a chore. For a kitten there was no such thing as too much sleep, not really, and the cushions, his adopted sisters and brothers, and his adopted mother were quite comfortable to cuddle against.

Only the nights were spend in stillness with the caravan. Though Harry couldn't see that first week, with his eyelids sealed and resolutely refusing to open, he could hear and sense the movements about him. It had startled both him and the other kittens when they had been bundled up in the morning and lifted somewhere where they had spent the day, rocked by continuous, repetitive motions of what Harry presumed to be a camel's steps, probably under some sort of cover because the sunlight didn't scorch them. That either wasn't bad, after the first day sleeping while in constant motion got easier, and that was how most of the day was spent.

The caravan was still moving, camels, cats, the falcon, humans and all, when some eight or so days later Harry finally managed to open first one eye, then another. His eyesight was helplessly blurry for the first few hours, and remained a little faded thorough the day – but seeing that all he could see was the shade of a basket, light glinting into it from the small holes in the lid, it wasn't that big of a hindrance.

He had thought, planned even, that once he managed to open his eyes he would quickly slide away from the mother cat's side and turn into a snake and be off. He could follow the caravan as a vulture instead, and actually take a look at the route they were taking, and in the mean while he could eat the way carrion birds did, from whatever dead the desert offered. After eating nothing but a cat's milk, he was no longer that queasy about that concept.

But having his eyes open didn't make his kitten limbs any stronger, or the mother cat in any way less observant – neither did it make the humans around them less present. There was no sliding away, not on clumsy, shivering kitten steps, and so Harry conceded defeat for a while longer, figuring that he could make his escape once his body would actually be capable of it.

Once his eyes opened, he slept a little less and ate a little less frequently, and found that he had time for more than those two pass times. While the other kittens tumbled around the basket or the pillow where they lived, Harry curled up tightly, and wondered about just about anything that came to mind. He thought about how his animal form apparently aged and grew – his kitten body was definitely growing older, stronger, bigger, with every passing day. About the other forms he had – about whether or not he could die of old age in animal form, if he stayed as one for too long. About the people of the caravan, and the other kittens, the mother cat who purred lulling songs to her young, and about the falcon kept by one of the humans. About Abydos and about sand.

He also pondered on Earth, on Hermione and Ron and Ginny and everyone else – Teddy too – and what they were doing. If time passed the same both on Earth and on Abydos, days would've passed for them just as they had passed for him. What had become of them, of the war, had the end been final? And what were they saying about him, did they think he was dead?

In an odd way he hoped they did. Hermione would stop at nothing if she thought she could somehow get him back, and Ron would back her to heaven and hell and back – thinking Harry dead would be easier on them, let them move on with their lives without wondering.

His thought sessions were usually disturbed by one or all of the other kittens, who took his aloofness and decided that he was a perfect target for a stealthy tackle from behind – but in the middle of the second week, the distraction was greater. The men outside the basket begun shouting and the camel stopped, urged to lie down on the sand, then there was more shouting and stomping around and the sounds of a camp being hastily pitched up – several hours too early – until the light outside the basket was dimmed. Then the basket was taken, carried off, and settled down again with haste that made the kittens and the mother cat inside tumble and roll around.

"What are they on about now?" the mother cat asked, exasperated, and then perked up her ears. The wind, which had been absent for several days now, was howling. "Oh, I see. It must be a sandstorm. Kittens, come here," she then said, to the smaller cats, most of whom were awkwardly getting back to their feet, or trying to. "Come to mother, now."

They did, Harry too, not wanting to be hefted up by his neck – which the mother cat had done several times, when he had failed to answer her calls. She herded them to her belly and very nearly lay on top of them all as she curled about them. "The wind will be tearing at the sand outside," she said, licking one of Harry's adopted sisters over the ear affectionately. "We probably will not feel it here, but it is best to be cautious. Just settle down, that's it."

Harry perked up his own ears, which were yet to actually rise the way her ears were, they were a bit lopsided still – and then he hesitated. Sandstorms. He knew what they were, roughly, Earth deserts had them too after all, but he had never thought he'd be in one, some day. Let alone as a kitten.

He almost wished to ask the elder cat if Abydos had lot of sandstorms, but he couldn't. His kitten mouth and body was still too new for words. Not to mention about the fact that as two week old kitten, he probably wasn't supposed to have enough understanding for speech anyway.

"It will be over soon," the mother cat assured them, when one of the female kittens mewed in fright. "Some hours, and then the sand will settle and well be back on the move."

It did end, though in time measured from a cat's perspective, the time seemed to last for couple of years. It was impossible to sleep in the howling and with the humans yelling at each other over the noise, and so the time was spent awake, without much to do and, eventually, with all of the kittens lapsing into sort of cautious boredom. On top of that, fine dust was getting into the basket, making the kittens, Harry included, sneeze.

It took a while for the caravan to get back to moving, after the storm. There was a great deal of shouting and, judging by the tone, cursing from the people as they moved about. The mother cat listened to the sounds intently while her kittens suckled, and Harry, who had been straining to learn to understand at least some words of the language the people spoke, perked up as well. He couldn't make out any of what they said.

But, in the end, their basket was brought up again and hung to a camel, by a muttering human who tightened the strap so tightly that the sides of the basket came a little inward. After that, they were soon on the move again and Harry couldn't tell if the caravan had come worse off from the storm or not.

It didn't seem to matter to the other cats, and in the end Harry settled down too, uneasy in the comfort of his momentary kin. There was little else he could do, and as the caravan trotted along at the lanky, rocking pace of a camel's steps, he closed his eyes and tried to fall asleep.

x

His time as a kitten came to an end when the caravan did. Two weeks it took, or thereabouts, Harry wasn't all that sure of time anymore, before the noises around the caravan grew from the usual into something much louder, much more crowded, and when, after great deal of jostling and handling, the basket was opened, Harry found that it had been settled under the flap of a sort of crude pavilion on a busy street of what looked like small village made of tents.

There was more people around than the five of the caravan, much more, men and women and children hurrying about while the caravan unloaded their goods. Harry nearly tore his kitten claws off in the fight against the basket's side as he climbed up it to see the street beyond. At first glance he could see some dozen tents, some of them as big as Hagrid's hut, and three times as many people, all in long cloaks, some of them dark, others light, all sort of earth shaded.

Harry didn't stop to think. The caravan people were too busy with the unloading and securing of the camels to mind a basket full of cats. He fell down to the bottom of the basket, to the pillow that had been for so many days his prison as much as it had been his home, and gave a sort of regretful look to the mother cat. She had taken good care of him, fed him and cleaned him against all his objections, and he would probably remember her later warmly. But Harry was no kitten.

The mother cat let out a not exactly shocked or surprised but outraged and disbelieving meow when Harry transformed out of the fragile, young shape of a kitten, and into one of an elder adult cat such as herself. Then, just as Harry prepared himself to jump out of the basket and to freedom, the mother cat broke out to furious hissing and caterwauling and very nearly lashed out at him with her claws, before he managed to make his escape.

"Pretender! Litter killer! Come back here, and taste my claws!" the mother cat snarled after him, and feeling a little guilty he dashed away, clumsy and awkward but getting better at handling four strong limbs with each step. The spaces between the tents offered him, an easy escape, and he hid in their oiled folds, sneezing a little at the sand in the air.

After moment of ashamed hiding there, prodding at the cloth about him and wondering if the people living in the tents were nomadic, he snuck finally out and, after none of the people who saw his long limbed feline form just went on their way again, he got bolder, and ran over the thin street between the tents and further into the camped village. Little after that, he was strolling down the streets and the little tight places between tents, without being bothered in the slightest by the people, which was nice.

He doubted that the place was a camp, the more he saw about it. It had a well lived look about it, there were even some vegetable patches here and there and there weren't enough camels around for them to take all their tents and belongings with them. On top of that, it was in a good spot, between some strange rocky protrusions that weren't really mountains and reminded Harry more of a giant's fingers, reaching out of the sand. The people of the tent village had built some crude stone walls between the protrusions, enclosing the camp between them and, as far as Harry could judge architecture, he assumed the walls were there to offer some protection from the sandstorms, than any invasions by people.

The tent village was enormous, though, there had to be thousands of people living there – dark haired and bronze skinned, all wearing long sandy clothing and many hiding their hair in turbans and scarves. Many had scarves over their faces too, probably to shield them from the sand. All of it was very dull coloured, except for rare few which bloomed among the sandy hues like rarest of wild flowers. Maybe dyes were rare and expensive here.

Harry wasn't as long a cat as he had been a kitten, not that first time. It was easy enough to be a cat in the place – there weren't exactly lot of them about, but there was aplenty and none of the people paid much mind to them. But he wanted to learn more than what the bottoms of the tents and streets looked like, and as freely as he could move as cat, he needed to know more. So, he started looking into another body.

Eventually he decided that an animal wouldn't do – animal couldn't understand the humans, and he really wanted to figure out what they were talking, what they were like, so forth. He didn't like the idea of spending all his life as an animal, even if he had a great variety to choose from, so, around the evening when the lamps were lit and people gathered to share noisy, happy meals, he hung at the edges of the lamp light, in hidden corner between the backs of three different tents, he started tentatively changing.

Transforming into a human – a human that wasn't him – was a bit harder than just letting his ability run amok with animal shape. He had noticed that there was a certain… cloning effect when he saw an animal and decided to mimic it – when he had taken the mother cat's form, he had taken it _precisely_, down to gender and swollen nips and all. With a cat that was alright, as it was unlikely that anyone would notice – but if he turned into a perfect carbon copy of some human… that wasn't so good.

So, after spending some time looking intently at the people of the tent village, he exercised his imagination and plied some artistic creativity to his transformation for the first time. He had no way of judging by the result – he had no mirror to check himself by – but he got the colour of his skin right, as well as the clothing which he thanked heavens was included into the transformation – and trying his face and hair with his fingers, he suspected those went right too. Short dreadlocks, like he had seen on one of the elder boys. Stout, slightly crooked nose from that man. Thick but short eyebrows of that other man, chin from that youth, and so forth. With scarf wrapped about his head and another over the bottom half of his face like some of the people did, hopefully he was close enough blend to pass through the crowds unnoticeable.

Then, hardy daring, he stepped out and into the light before making tentative process towards the crowd gathered in to a large open area between tents, and under the light of the triple moon.

"… a little more heat. A kiln is simply not good enough, we need something hotter," one elder man was saying, in a smaller circle of men who were studying some dark rocks, one of them testing his with a tiny hammer. "What did Danyel say, about forges? Something about airflow?"

"Yes, I recall that," another nodded. "It was about a device that could be used to pump air into fire to make it hotter. It was some foreign word of his he used for it. Kasuf might have some of Danyel's notes left; he kept all his writings, did he not?"

"I suppose we need to ask, though whether anyone can reads those notes is a different thing. With Skaara gone and Sha're…" the first man frowned, flicking one of the black rocks into the air and catching it. "In any case, the mines are rich of the ore and it would be waste to let it rot. Some sturdier tools would not be amiss…"

Harry walked pass the men as casually as he could, and they paid no attention him whatsoever, and so he moved closer to the bigger circle of people. They were talking all at once, a little too hard to keep up, but on the fringes of the crowd there were group of young men, talking amongst themselves about some digging they were planning to do. "… that way we won't need nearly so many camels," one of them was saying. "We used to use it in the south ridge, on that low valley beside it when the carts got stuck."

Another young man nodded. "It ought to be easier than dragging the ring like we did when we buried it," he agreed, stroking a hand across his skin. "We can use the pulleys from the old mines too, but getting them to the dig side will take camels."

"I'm sure someone will borrow us some," the first youth nodded, and as Harry walked on they continued to talk about dragging something large and heavy across sand with minimum of effort.

As he circled around the crowd, trying to look like not that big an outsider and succeeding somewhat well, he wondered about the fact that he could understand their language, a human language, without learning it. Of course he had understood the snake, and the mother cat, but they were animals. Did human's race really matter in that, in this? If he were to turn into a French man, would he understand French? Or German, or anything else? It was a strange thought, but oddly comforting. That, at least, felt like magic to him, true and strange, when the physical transformations had started to feel like natural process instead of magical one.

Most of the people were discussing the food, and how much more they had now that they no longer needed to work the mines and could instead work on raising vegetables and hunting. Some were talking about the recent sandstorm and how they had lost some animals to it. Some were talking about the digging of something and how it had been a year since something had happened, or something like that, but Harry didn't really understand what they were on about. He listened as well as he could, but felt like outsider until the end, when he turned and walked away to think without having to fear of being discovered.

He now had semblance of understanding over these people – not very in-depth one, but he could understand them. But now what? Should he try and blend in with them, become one of them, pretend he was the dark dreadlocked Abydonian youth he had transformed himself into? These people were friendly and happy people as far as he could tell, but also very socially oriented and he had no doubt that most of them knew each other – and stranger such as him of whom no one knew a thing about… that wouldn't blend well. Especially since he had no idea how to act among them, or about their world and lives in general.

He could make pretence of walking into the city afresh as a stranger and begging sanctuary or something, but… it didn't seem quite right. He wasn't quite comfortable in his new human form; it felt ill-fitting like too tight clothing. He didn't think he'd like to stay as him.

He was brought out of his thoughts by the sound of weeping, coming through a tent at his right. Stopping, Harry listened to it with confusion – he hadn't heard even a child cry yet, so the sound was strange to him. It was a woman who was trying to stifle her sobs, succeeding rather badly.

Letting curiosity run away with him, and his inner sense of chivalry that had never been good with crying girls or women, Harry slid into his feline form – almost like it anyway, this time he took care to make it the proper gender – and made his way to the tent flap. Letting out a curious meow, he ducked inside, brushing against the tent pole the way cats did, and startling the woman out of her sobbing.

She was beautiful and dark haired like most of the women of the village were – and quite obviously pregnant under her earth shaded dress. She sniffled softly and wiped a hand quickly over her eyes before saying something that Harry, once more, couldn't understand. She smiled, though, and reached out a hand to Harry, so he took it well and walked closer, to rub his head along her hand, wondering what had made her cry.

She had stopped crying, though, and was smiling now before taking hold of him under his front legs and bringing him up and to her chest, to hug him like child would've hugged a stuffed toy. There was still salt on her cheeks and waver in her voice as she babbled, but she seemed to feel a little better now, which made Harry relax a bit and let out a purr in way he had only managed in the last days of his kittenhood.

When she eventually calmed down completely and, after visiting a pot to relieve herself, she stretched herself out on a pile of blankets, pulling Harry the cat to her chest and holding him close as she fell into tired, uneasy slumber. Harry, not having anything better to do, stayed by her side, wondering about what might've made her cry. There was no man in the tent, and barely any signs of there having been one in a while, so maybe that was it – maybe she was about to be a single mother. Poor thing.

Purring absently, Harry laid down his head and let his thoughts to wonder to if he could transfer the Abydonian form's ability to understand their language into other forms – or if he needed to actually learn it the difficult way after all. One way or the other, he suspected he had more than enough time to find out – and he rather doubted he was going to find a better place to stay, than the tent village in the world of sun, heat and sand.

x

The woman's name was Sha're, judging by the way people addressed her. Harry took a habit of following after her as she went about her days, which didn't mean much walking since she rarely left her tent. She was a bit of a outcast, even, though Harry wasn't sure why – people gave her looks of mingled pity and understanding, some even gave her gifts, vegetables and grain and other food, enough of them for her to manage day by day, but she was given a wide berth when she went out. The only human who approached her willingly Harry presumed was her father, Kasuf, who visited her daily, and spend hours with her occasionally.

Despite the treatment of other people of the village, Sha're managed well enough. She worked quietly, mending old clothing or grinding wheat to flour, fixing her own meals in silence and eating alone. Sometimes she would take out a chest and take out some roughly made papers to read and occasionally she would take out a frame with sand in it, and trace symbols into it, like practicing them. She didn't cry again for several days, though sometimes she did grit her teeth, her face hard and her lips a thin line, like holding back some emotion.

Harry didn't learn much language from her, as she talked little and usually only with Kasuf or some of the younger men but only briefly in passing, but he didn't mind. Nothing stopped him from ducking out of the tent and finding some people in deep discussions to listen to, though that didn't help much either. Not before he ran into a younger male cat – relatively speaking – who could understand some words of the Abydonian language, and could be bribed to help him with piece of the meat Sha're fed him with.

"That word means vegetable," the younger cat said while they huddled on a barrel, listening to some women talk. "That is how they say male kitten, or their version of male kitten anyway," he then added, and then so it went, them listening until the young cat, Aharuf, heard a word he knew.

Harry urged Aharuf to spread word that Harry would offer some juicy pieces of meat to every cat who could help him understands the human language, and after a while he got some other cat visitor's young and especially old, who didn't have as kind a human as their companion, as Sha're. The older cats wee especially useful, as they had had more time to learn other words than what had to do with food or addressing others. The best teacher Harry found was Narha, an older female lazy with age, who had learned most of the human language just so that she could gauge the moods of human to best known when to pester them for food, and when to clear out.

"You are a strange sort of cat," Narha said, after Harry had spent some time repeating words in his mind to press them into his memory. "Wanting to learn a language of all things. One should think you'd be content with your human, with the sweet food she gives to you and all."

"Maybe, but things might change," Harry said. He did not want to spent the rest of his life as a cat - nor did he want to be some human he actually wasn't. He wanted to be, on occasion, himself and on those times knowing Abydonian might as well save his life, as well as be just generally useful.

"Well, I shan't complain," Narha said, yawning. "So as long as you keep offering me treats, I will be happy enough to indulge your foolish notions, Hareh."

"Harry," he corrected, but he had mostly given up on that. It didn't really matter what the cats called him, and if his name could be twisted into Abydonian pronunciation, all the better.

With some words under his belt, trying to muddle the meaning of the rest got a bit easier. It was still no where near instant, nothing like talking the language of cats or snakes or whatnot, but he was making some slow process. He even managed to deduce the reason of as to why Sha're was treated like a pariah. She was married, but the child she carried wasn't her husband's. And the few times she cried, she did it because she was absolutely certain that her husband, who would be soon returning, would no longer love her.

There was nothing Harry could do to help her with that, so he just purred at her and nuzzled against her when he could to comfort her, and hoped that it helped at least a little. And who knew, maybe it did.

It all changed when the digging so many people had planned actually begun. Sha're went out to watch, while some twenty men hauled a piled up boulders aside and then dug about in the sand until they recovered whatever had been buried there – a great ring of dark metal, taller than any tent in the village, twice as tall as most men. Judging by the difficulty of hauling it up, even with tools and pulleys and some camels, it weighed even more than it looked it did.

Chappa'ai they called it, in hushed tones, as the slow process of dragging the thing up and across the dunes begun. They did most of it by using some smoothly carved logs as sort of wheels beneath the ring, but even so it was a slow, awkward process that moved at a snail's pace further and further away from the village of tents.

Then they came over one more dune, the working crew and the enormous crowd that had build around the operation and Harry saw the pyramid, an actual _pyramid_, which sat among the sand. It was enormous, as big as the biggest one in Giza, but different. With some shock, Harry realised that unlike the pyramids of Giza, this one hadn't been stripped bare of the layer of lighter shaded stone – this one looked like the pyramids had, back when they had been recently finished.

It was magnificent, but the people of Abydos only gave it dark, uneasy looks even as they dragged the ring of metal towards it, inch by difficult inch. Eventually the ring was taken inside, where Harry peeked about curiously, marvelling the place in fascination of one who had never been abroad that much. The ring was eventually brought to a large room with a strange sort of pedestal waiting – as well as an indent in the dark stone floor, apparently made for the metal ring.

It took better part of two hours for the men of Abydos to set the ring to its place, puffing and huffing and yelling orders at each other while the women carried water and snacks to them. Then, by the time it was already starting to get dark, the ring slid to its groove with a stony groan, and for a moment, the strange triangular shapes along the edge of the ring flashed red.

Unlike with most accomplishments and group efforts in the village of tents, no one celebrated this accomplishment. There was no clapping, no smiles or cheering, but instead people quickly stepped back, uneasy and unnerved. Eventually they started to trickle out again, while the young men who had been in charge of the task talked amongst them, establishing a watch from what Harry understood of the language.

Sha're was among the last to leave, looking at the ring of metal with mixed expression for a long while before turning. Harry followed her, wondering about the ominous sense that seemed to smother the whole event, and about the dark look on his human companion's face. She seemed even less happy than the others in the village of tents, but in the same time there was a sort of painful hope about her.

"Danyel will come soon," someone said behind them, and Sha're's shoulders stiffened for a moment, her chin lifting. Danyel, the man who was the engineer of lot of the village's better thoughts, like sanitation, irrigation, quite bit of tools and the recent attempts at forging the dark metal the mines on the rocky formations offered, was Sha're's husband. The husband whose child she wasn't expecting.

She wept hard and long that night, despite all of Harry's meowing and purring, going as far as to cry herself into exhaustion and sleep long before evening meal. When she woke later that night, she looked like a woman waiting on her death sentence, and Harry promised himself that whatever would happen, whoever Danyel was and whatever he was like, Harry would stand by Sha're. She had been nice to him, and if it was the habit of people here to do something ghastly to women who were unfaithful to their husbands… well, Harry came from culture of freer thinking people.

And he had seen a caged lion just a little while ago, brought in by another caravan. He was pretty sure he could manage a transformation into one, easy enough.

x

Danyel wasn't a brute, though. Neither was he an Abydonian – instead he was a pale skinned man with light brown hair, wearing Abydonian clothing but awkwardly, like not quite used to them, and on his nose he had a pair of eyeglasses. He did make Sha're cry, though, but at that point, as Harry stared with wide eyes and disbelief, that didn't really matter.

Danyel spoke _English_. As did Sha're, to him – and Kasuf too, though with less success. And it wasn't just that, but the man that came with Danyel, who looked like the brute Harry had been expecting in all things except for the complete utter lack of brutish behaviour. Unlike Danyel, the other man, dark skinned, tall, and incredibly muscular with an odd golden symbol on his forehead, wore what Harry could only describe as muggle military gear. And he too spoke English.

It was a small blessing that the shock of watching their interaction froze Harry nearly completely, because if it hadn't he probably would've done something very stupid. As it was, he couldn't understand much of what they spoke, regardless of the language they used – first Danyel and the dark man thought that Sha're was a demon, to which she explained that the demon slept, then there was great deal of fuss about the child, whose father was someone named Apofis, or something. Thankfully even whilst enraged Danyel didn't act cruelly, though he did stalk away quickly enough while Sha're dissolved into sobs, weeping that her husband no longer loved her.

It was utterly bewildering and Harry doubted he could've been any more surprised if Lumos had appeared before him, and started dancing a waltz.

Shaking himself out of it, Harry jumped down from his perch atop a shelf and made his way to Sha're's side, jumping to her lap while Kasuf held her. There wasn't much he could do, but he offered her his purr anyway, and she smiled a little through the tears as she ran her hand over his fur, apparently finding some comfort. "Danyel no longer loves me," she said again, this time little less petulant sorrow, and more acceptance.

"You are incorrect," the big, dark skinned man said from where he has been pretending not to overhear her sorrow. He turned to face them, with carefully expressionless look about his face. "DanielJackson cares for you greatly," he assured, making Harry glance up. Not Danyel then, but Daniel. He didn't know what that meant, but it meant _something._

"He does not behave as a husband," Kasuf said quietly, squeezing Sha're's shoulder in his hand.

Sha're, though, was distracted by the big man, staring at him with a thoughtful look about her face. "I have seen your face before," she said, frowning slightly.

"As First Prime of Apophis, I was present when the Goa'uld invaded your body," the man explained stoically, but with bitter undertone in his voice. "For my part I can only ask for forgiveness."

While Harry wondered about Apophis – wasn't that Egyptian god or something? – and what the Goa'uld were, Sha're shook her head. "No, it is more," she said. "You are the traitor. Teal'c."

Harry wasn't all that interested who the man was or what he had done – though he was curious about the shock this revelation seemed to bring out of Kasuf and Teal'c, who apparently hadn't expected her to know such things. The demon inside her, the Goa'uld whatever it is, apparently knew such things, but it shouldn't have been possible for Sha're to know, yet she did, reading the memories of her Goa'uld demon.

"Excuse me. I must speak with DanielJackson," Teal'c said, with a stiff bow of his head, and then made his leave, leaving Harry alone with Kasuf and Sha're in the tent.

"Do you remember all of what the demon has done?" Kasuf asked, forsaking English of which he seemed to know only little, and speaking Abydonian instead.

"No. But there are vague images in my head, moments playing out," Sha're said, sighing and lifting Harry to her arms, above her swollen belly, and nuzzling her nose into his fur. "Most of them of Apophis. Most of them I wish I did not remember at all," she admitted, closing her eyes. "So many atrocities."

Kasuf nodded thoughtfully before levelling her with a severe look. "Sha're, why did you not tell me of the demon?" he demanded. "Bad enough that you appear amidst us out of nowhere the way you did, season ago, but this? I am your father; you should trust me with things such as these. I could've helped you – we would've thought of something."

"Bad enough," she repeated and let out a weak laugh. "Bad enough that I return heavy with child of a man not my husband, of a fake-god even. Bad enough that I have seen things I dare not to speak of. What would you have done, honestly, father? For the safety of the village, you would've closed me away, chained me. I would've understood, but… this is all the freedom of the demon I have had for so long. I did not wish…"

Kasuf sighed, stroking a hand over her hair. "You should have trusted me," he said.

They fell silent, and for a while only Harry's purring could be heard as he did the best he could to comfort the woman who had been so kind to him. He understood some of her sorrows and heartbreaks now, even if he couldn't really share them. Poor woman. He had only been possessed less than a minute, when Voldemort had enforced his mind over Harry's in the Department of mysteries, two years ago, and that didn't compare. It made him wish, not for the first time but wholly different reasons than before, that he still had magic. Couple of obliviates would've helped Sha're to sleep, he bet.

Daniel Jackson and Teal'c were gone for a while, though they weren't far as the voices of their discussion could be easily heard to the tent. When Daniel returned, it was with grim, resolute features that at first made the hair of Harry's back and neck rise a little. But when the man asked softly if Kasuf could give them a moment of privacy, the old man nodded and made his exit. Sha're, after squeezing Harry for a moment longer, placed him down and stood up to face Daniel.

Watching them cautiously reconcile was a little painful, but it turned out that Daniel really wasn't the sort of man Harry had originally feared, as he was quick to reassure the woman of his love and care, assuring her that whatever she had gone through wasn't her fault. Still, Harry didn't trust the slightly wild look about the man's eyes, even if that was brought forward by shock and hurt of having been unable to help here, and stayed where he was, watching and waiting and quite ready to become a lion if Sha're required defending.

"Will you stay?" Sha're eventually asked, sounding like she was hardly daring to hope.

"I can't," Daniel answered softly. "Because I want you to come home with me."

The end of his tail flickering with badly suppressed concern, Harry laid back his ears. He wasn't sure what that meant, not entirely, but it made him worry.

A little while later, after Daniel and called Kasuf and Teal'c back, he explained what it meant. He meant to take Sha're with him – to _Earth_ none the less. Sha're argued that after the child would be born, the demon would waken again and punish her and the child, but Daniel assured her that it was for the best – that the demon would be their prisoner and that they could keep her from Apophis, save the child and that maybe, eventually, they'd be able to remove the demon itself. That they needed the knowledge she had of the Goa'uld, desperately

"Apophis will return," Kasuf said. "If she is gone, he will destroy the whole village."

"Tell him that an enemy stole Sha're and the child away," Teal'c suggested in low tone.

"And that will be the truth, yes?" the elder Abydonian asked, and then turned to Sha're. "Go with them."

Daniel Jackson rose a little in Harry's estimation, as he argued against the man that it was Sha're's choice, but it helped only little. He was still wanting to take Sha're away. It was for a good cause, to save her and the child, but still. He wanted to take her back to Earth.

And Harry, who was now nudging at her hand for petting more for his own comfort than hers, couldn't go back there, couldn't go with them. Sure, he could try, but… He had felt it, in Lumos's words, in the split second between Earth and Abydos. However Daniel and Teal'c had gotten to Abydos didn't really matter. Harry couldn't follow them – the Ascended wouldn't let him.

"I know this will not be easy," Daniel said to Sha're. "But at least this way Apophis won't be able to hurt you or the child ever again."

Sha're sighed, thought for a moment, and then looked up. "Then I will come with you, my Danyel," she said resolutely, and Harry lowered his head a bit. It might be for the best, but he was just selfish enough to feel the sting of loosing such a good companion. He doubted he could find a human in the Abydonian village, who would be as kind for him as Sha're had been.

Well, just as well. He should try and find another shape to inhabit anyway – maybe try and start making his way in his new life as a human, rather than as an animal. He knew enough Abydonian now to manage, maybe even speak some of it. And with Daniel's and Teal'c's arrival, he knew that he could justify his presence somehow, even if he was a pale skinned foreigner.

"Apophis may return any moment," Teal'c said, putting an end to Harry's pondering. "We must leave now."

As Sha're stood, to pack a small bag to take with her, Harry stretched and stood up as well. The least he could do was walk her to whatever mode of transportation Daniel intended them to take.

But it didn't turn out that way. They made it from the village to the pyramid where the ring of stone had been set, and there Sha're stopped, to listen. The ground was trembling slightly and sand and dust fell from the pyramid's ceiling and then, as Teal'c deduced that the grumbling of the Earth was caused by a Goa'uld_ship_ approaching, Sha're backed away from Daniel – and her eyes begun to glow.

"My lord comes for me," she said in tone of voice that was no longer Sha're's but something else's entirely. Teal'c's reaction to it was to draw a weapon, but while Harry spat and hissed at the man, Daniel waved the gun aside and approached his wife hurriedly, telling her to hold on and fight.

Sha're came to, but the damage was done, and as Harry watched helplessly she fell to her knees, holding her belly, crying for her husband. Then there was no time left. Teal'c forsake whatever he was doing with the pedestal with the red stone, and he, Daniel and Sha're fled the hall, while Harry hung back uncertainly looking up to the ceiling where a round hole was opening mechanically, with glow of white shining down from it.

Next thing he knew, there was a group of armoured people in the hall of the metal ring, one of them stepping forward to check the pedestal where Teal'c had been doing something. "My lord," the man said, in a language close enough to Abydonian that Harry could just barely understand him. "Someone attempted to flee through the Stargate. They did not have time to escape."

The only man without helmet, a bald headed man with slim beard and golden armour instead of the metallic grey of the others, nodded. "Find Apophis's queen," he ordered, and while Harry hid in a corner with his tail wrapped around his paws, the men saluted him and then headed out of the hall, to hunt Sha're down.

Harry waited for as long as he could shivering with anxiety, before carefully sneaking out of the corner and then, after making sure that no one was looking at his direction, dashing out of the shadows and then away from the hall. It seemed he was hidden enough by the sandy shaded colouring and the shades that no one noticed him, and so he made it without incident – though he kept on running for a while until he was sure he was out of reach. Then, his tail end twitching and ears laid back, he sniffed about the floor, looking for familiar scents.

Eventually he caught it, not just Sha're's familiar earthy scent, but also Daniel's cologne and the strange, metallic tint of Teal'c's. After making sure he had the receding tracks and not the arriving ones, he hurried on to find where they had hidden Sha're and, if it came to it, to protect her with any form in his arsenal.

x

There was little he could do, in the end.

After watching Sha're give birth and how the Goa'uld Amunet returned to control her body, Harry didn't know what to do, what he could do. So he sat back and witnessed how Daniel and Teal'c stole her child away under the pretence Teal'c being one of the attacking Horus Guard, staying hidden thorough the whole ordeal. The two men left Sha're – and Harry – after shooting her to unconsciousness with a strange weapon that shot blasts of white electricity, and while she lay on her side, dead to the world, Harry felt lost.

There was more going on that he understood. He had figured that Sha're had some sort of other entity inside her, and that entity was named Amunet. Sha're had been kidnapped some year or so ago to be the host of that entity – and during that year of possession, she and Apophis, who was the reason why she had been captured in the first place, had conceived the child. The armoured men Harry had seen in the hall of the ring weren't part of Apophis' people, but his enemies – and in the mean while, Daniel and Teal'c were… what?

Curiously Harry slid out of his hiding place by the door, and up to the bed, to nose at Sha're's cheek. Except she wasn't Sha're anymore, now that the child had been delivered, she was Amunet again – he had heard her speak in that odd, warped voice, just before Teal'c and Daniel had acted out their charade to steal the child away from Amunet, and pin the blame on Heru'ur, or whatever it was. He could understand why they had done it – he had heard enough to figure out that Apophis, Amunet and Heru'ur were all bad guys and that the child would be better off out of the reach of any of them, but still.

He didn't know what to do. Sha're had been nice to him, and he knew enough of possession to know how horrible it was, had to be. Amunet probably had no need for a desert cat like him, and Harry knew he probably wouldn't like Amunet even half as well as he liked Sha're but still… it felt like betrayal, cold and cruel, to leave her as she was, as Daniel and Teal'c had done, even if their reasons had been just.

It seemed especially cruel considering that she had just _given__birth_.

Uncertain, Harry kneaded the bed cloth beside her before stopping the unconscious feline behaviour and shaking himself instead and settling down. He purred, like he had purred for her countless times before, trying to comfort her the only way he could in a cat's form. He would've liked to turn back into a man and at least ease her into more comfortable position if nothing else, but he didn't dare to. If these Goa'uld beings delighted in taking human hosts, he didn't even want to know what they would think of a shape shifter like him. He didn't want to find out.

Amunet stirred eventually, first her fingers which Harry was tickling with slightly twitching tail, then her eyelashes. Then she snapped her eyes open, the whites glowing in golden, and turned sharply to look at him. Harry mewled at her, laying back his ears and getting ready to bounce into flight if it came to it… but she didn't attack. Instead she sighed, closed her glowing eyes and then relaxed a little, before reaching out a hand and scratching the back of his neck and ears the way Sha're had sometimes done.

"In my moment of weakness, only a cat stands by me," she murmured, her voice throaty and unnatural, and smiled before turning to look at him again. "You are a loyal little feline, I must admit. Feed you once or twice and you never go away. I wish humans and Jaffa were more like you, at times."

Then she sat up, apparently without any hint of post-labour pains, and stretched. A hard look came about her face as she looked at the doorway, where Teal'c and Daniel had taken her baby, and for a moment Harry wondered if she would hurl something at the door, just to vent her anger. She didn't, instead she chuckled softly and looked about herself. "How amusing, that they brought me here. This is where Sha're left my clothing."

As Harry watched, a little uncertain, Amunet rummaged through the boxes and baskets in the room until she found one holding beautiful white robes, obviously handmade and exquisite. The commoner garb of Sha're's was instantly forsaken to the floor, making Harry avert his eyes with uneasy flicker of his tail – had he been able to, he would've flushed to the roots of his hair. Amunet was quick to dress again, though, and not just dress. She spent a moment arranging jewellery upon herself, a snake crown made of white gold and pearls with chains hanging and framing her face and an obviously expensive necklace that matched the crown at her neck.

Then she turned to look at him. "Come here, cat," she said, holding up what looked like a bracelet. "For your loyalty I will have you live at my palace, keeping me company until the end of your days. Come. As a queen's pet you will wear the queen's gifts and wear them proudly."

He went, a little nervous, and she tied the bracelet around his neck. It was a little loose on him and heavy, but beautiful – thick band of more white gold and pearls, to obviously go with her crown and necklace. Satisfied, Amunet scratched the back of his ears again and smiled.

"Let us go," she then said, and turned to leave. Harry, not knowing what else to do and curious despite himself – Amunet didn't act like a demon – he followed.

Despite the regal way she now held her self and the clothing, she was not beyond making the difficult, awkward way out of the hiding place, nor to duck and kneel and even crawl to avoid deduction by the villagers. Harry kept at her side the entire way, making sure he wouldn't be seen as well, until they were finally out of the eye reach of the village and behind some dunes, where they could make their way over them and to the pyramid with less stealth and more haste.

Once they got there, Amunet resorted to more stealth again, hiding in shadows and listening. There were sounds of fighting, shooting, confusion that Harry couldn't quite make out, until it quieted for a moment and some people exchanged words. Then there was more noise, this one stranger and sharper and not at all human, more like machine coming to live. A whirling whooshing sound Harry couldn't name, and little after that voice speaking. "Attention, Jaffa!" it snapped. "Find Amunet!"

Amunet's shoulders slumped for a smallest of moment and it almost looked like she was relieved. Then she lifted her chin again and stepped out of the shadows, glancing down at Harry to make sure he was following her just as he had always followed Sha're. He did, out of the shadows of the corridor, through it, and to the room with the metal ring which was… was full of water?

The water vanished with odd sort of bang, as Amunet stepped forward. "I am here, my pharaoh," Amunet said in her odd voice, walking across the hall to meet a dark skinned man and several armoured guards, much like the ones before but serpentine, more than jackal-like.

The dark skinned man who, by the way he and Amunet looked at each other, was Apophis, looked her up and down. "And the child?" he asked, his voice odd and inhuman just as hers.

"Stolen, by your enemy Heru'ur," she said, bowing her head just as Harry stepped to her side, to lean as comfortingly as he could against her leg. "Forgive me, my pharaoh, for failing you," she added.

There was a sound of breath coming from a wrong direction, that called Harry's attention away from Amunet's and Apophis' reunion, and to a hidden alcove of the room where, he wasn't all that surprised to find, was Daniel and Teal'c with two others, wearing very Earth like clothing. Harry looked away again, not wanting to give up their position. They were probably as good people as Daniel seemed to be, even if their methods seemed a bit strange to him. And it was best for all, probably, if their little deception remained hidden.

"Jaffa, engage the pedestal," Apophis ordered, and then turned to Amunet again – just as she looked where Harry had looked, and saw Daniel and the others. She said nothing though, just looked away again as the ring of metal glowed and then erupted to horizontal geyser of water, and then collapsed down to the pool of shimmering blue glow Harry had seen before.

"Come home with me my queen," Apophis said, holding his hand to Amunet who accepted it, and then they stepped forward, with Harry trailing after them, wondering what he was getting himself into.

xx

Thank you all for the support. I was honestly doubting this a bit, but not any more, and now I shall steam roll with this thing like nobody's business. I'm posting quickly just because of you guys.

My apologies for possible grammar errors.


	4. Chapter 4

Warnings; (ridiculously implausible and slightly overpowered)ShapeShifter!Harry and stuff. The year is currently 1998 in the story.

**Journeyman  
****4.**

Life as Queen Amunet's pet was almost disgustingly easy. There was a servant who brushed Harry's fur daily, another who tended to his jewellery – which Harry would never get used to, being a cat and having a whole box full of _jewellery_ of all things – and then there was a third who took care of his feeding, and fourth who took care of his… well, other bodily functions. He had never felt such luxury and even as a man he had never ate such food, but for heaven's sake. He was a _cat_. Though on other hand, he did not help but preen at the attention sometimes, much like a cat.

Aside from the fact that he now lived in a spaceship with whirl of blue and purple outside every window and no greenery to be had anywhere – or sand, thank Merlin – he had nothing to complain. And the things he saw…

Amunet had him with her as often as she could, which was to say, pretty much all the time. Apophis was the only one whose orders she followed and he ordered her very rarely, if ever. And so Harry sat in her lap when she met with soldiers and servants and the rare few allies Apophis had, he lingered at her side as she inspected some new trinket, a gift from underling or an ally or some bit of technology they were thinking of incorporating to their empire. And what an empire it was.

Apophis and Amunet both acted, with everyone but each other, like they were gods – and when they saw disobedience, the command to kneel before their god was quick on their lips… but gods they weren't. What they were was no less impressive though – Apophis was a ruler of an empire build in _space_, with spaceships of several sort, with planets and entire solar systems under his reign. The few allies he and Amunet met called Apophis a fellow System Lord – which Harry assumed to come from the concept of star systems, or something of the sort.

One wouldn't call Apophis a kind ruler, though. In the first few days alone Harry saw enough torturing and one screaming, painful execution to know that much – but he was effective and good at his job. Holding such a vast empire under his thumb was no small feat. Voldemort, Harry thought with sort of grim amusement, didn't hold a candle to Apophis and his kin, neither in cruelty or in intelligence – he had barely been able to hold one country while this alien tyrant ruled enormous chunk of the _galaxy_.

It made it feel a little pathetic, the way Harry had lost his magic and Ascension, in defeat of such a small little madman, when there were giants like Apophis out there.

It was some month or so into Amunet's return to Apophis, when she sat down in her quarters and snapped her guards and servant girls to leave. Harry was the only one who remained and at a signal he had learned to pick up easily, he jumped to her lap and purred to her comfort, wondering what had brought the frown to her face. Amunet wasn't Sha're, not at all, but there was a lot of Sha're in her. She too treated him kindly, and some of her expressions and moods were very much alike, though Amunet smothered hers in way Sha're hadn't been able to.

"I had wished…" she said, in way she sometimes did when alone with him, speaking to him to clear her thoughts. She sighed, and leaned back in her throne like chair, her fingers in his fur. "My pharaoh's kingdom is falling to bits," she then said, with grim sort of acceptance and disbelief, making Harry look up to her with surprise. He had seen some of Apophis's kingdom – he had seen his allies and his soldiers. It didn't look to him like something that was _falling_.

"After Ra's fall, he had everything, or near as such. Oh there was fighting, of course, but he soon had dominion over the majority," Amunet murmured. "For a moment it even looked like he would have dominion over all of it, the way Ra had before his death. Of course, I wasn't there, I was still a prim'ta, but my queen mother was, and I remember through her. But then the Tau'ri…"

She chuckled, soft. Tau'ri, Harry had came to understand, was the Goa'uld name for Earth and Earth humans. Confused, he nudged at her hand, to make her continue. He couldn't see what a planet like Earth could do to such as the Goa'uld – they had no spaceships as far as he knew, nothing that could match the Goa'uld. Even if it was a nasty thought and made his stomach turn painfully… Earth ought to have been defenceless against someone like Apophis.

"One should think that destruction of two mere ships would be nothing, but the loss of face was worse than the loss of resources," Amunet murmured. "That attack on Tau'ri ought to have been a simple affair, but it wasn't, the defeat echoed through the empire like a bell toll. And ever since then our allies and our enemies have been eating away at the territories of my lord's kingdom, gnawing at his power. Each day, my pharaoh grows weaker."

She was quiet for a moment, just looking down at Harry – who was now donning a collar of gold and rubies, and pair of rings that had been punctured through his earlobes, and which had taken some time to get used to. She smiled, a strange sort of mirthless, understanding expression. "It is only matter of time now. Either our allies and our enemies will band together, or someone will gain dominion over some others, and then the empire will start to crumble. Apophis is under the threat of assassination every moment of every day now, more so than before, and soon a assassin will be good enough to finish the deal."

Amunet sighed. "And Klorel, our foolish son, as brilliant as he is, he is no fit to rule an empire," she added. "He tortures when he ought to listen and destroys when he ought to conquer – leads his few Ha'tak into one foolish battle after another. There is even talk of him having dealings with Heru'ur!" she laughed bitterly. "It would explain how I was found, on Abydos. I was expecting the Tau'ri, but not Heru'ur, or the Horus Guard."

She was quiet for a moment, staring at Harry without actually seeing him, staring into her own thoughts. "It would've been easier of the Tau'ri had captured me," she said finally. "As well as hidden the child. My lord fears the Tau'ri because of their numbers, because of their ingenuity – they are such a fast progressing people, and he knows that, has seen enough many human populations left to their own devices to know how fast they grow. The Tollan, for one…" she laughed, and then paused, frowning. "Should Tau'ri grow to be like the Tollan… with their numbers? The entire galaxy would fall under their might, and there would be little any Goa'uld could do to stop them. There had never been such a world as Tau'ri – a world that is not stuck in the scant few hundreds of thousands, or millions at best, but _billions_. Tau'ri have more people in single world, than my lord has in his entire empire, and all it's planets."

She laughed again softly, now in actual amusement. "What a terrifying thought," she muttered. "And we should not feel such things as fear."

x

In the end, Harry stayed as Amunet's pet much longer than he had been Sha're's comforting companion, but it did come to an end after some months. And it came to an end rather explosively.

Apophis came to see Amunet one late evening, while she was reading in her rooms with only Harry for company. The System Lord was agitated about something – probably loss of yet another star system, which was happening more and more often now. As he came in, Amunet forgot her reading and stood, to try and console him.

"That old fool," Apophis said, pacing and almost ignoring her except to glare at her and point a finger at her. "Yu has taken the system of Alair – one of my better mines! I just had word from the squadron of Alair's fringe – there was barely a battle there, my treacherous Jaffa laid down their arms in defeat when Yu's ships showed – they _surrendered_!"

"Their treachery will be paid for when you take Alair back and punish them for their sins," Amunet assured, but Apophis just snorted at her, continuing his pacing. "Surely the other mines can compensate for the loss of Alair," Amunet then tried, reaching to touch his shoulder. "The mine at Fai'ak and the one in Khelo'eb…"

"Are both nearly depleted and unless another vein will be found, there will be no compensating," Apophis spat, shaking his head. "The production of my ships will be down before the month is up, and I will not have enough to face Ba'al, should he make another attempt at Khen'ek, and he will, before long. Especially so if he hears of the loss of Alair."

"Then, you must retake Alair," Amunet said pragmatically. "There will be ships enough – Klorel's fleet, and if you loosen the guard of Dakara, you will have more than enough –"

She was cut off sharply by Apophis's slap across her cheek, so powerful that it threw her back and to her knees. Before Harry knew what he was doing, he was already on his feet, his fur standing, while Apophis scoffed at his queen. "Loosen the guard of Dakara – what insanity!"

That was all he said, before Harry was already at him, claws stretched and fully intending to claw the Goa'uld's face into new order. He managed to get a pawful of scratches across Apophis's cheek, before the man's hand came up hard and threw him aside, sending him across the room and nearly making him hit the wall. "Beast!" the System Lord roared and held up the golden hand device he sometimes used to torture people – Harry only barely got out of the way of the impact, as it hit the wall and floor where he had been.

Harry wasted no moment making his escape. He could hear Amunet calling for him, or maybe for Apophis, as he dashed across the room and out of it, knowing full what would happen if he waited. Apophis gave no mercy to his servants or soldiers of even his trusted allies – he would have none to spare for animal either, even if Harry was Amunet's prize pet. And after he had managed to hit the man, he would have even less forgiveness – as it was Harry could hear him roaring from Amunet's room for his Jaffa to capture Harry, and kill him.

Cursing himself for a fool, Harry ran as fast as he could jewellery jingling, and then hid in the darkest corner he could find, to catch his breath and think. He shouldn't have acted – Amunet was a Goa'uld and healed fast, Apophis would have to cut her limbs off for the damage to matter. But Harry had always been too impulsive and he had came to like Amunet – for such a evil, domineering creature she wasn't bad, certainly not as bad as Apophis.

There was no helping it now, though – he could hear the Serpent Guard running across the corridors and shouting to each other in their search for him. They would find him – the Ha'tak was about the size of a castle as far as ships went, but it wasn't endless, and if they didn't find him on foot, then they would use the ship's sensor system to find him. And he doubted they would have to resort to that – he could already hear their steps, leading to his direction, and with all the gold on his neck all it would take for little bit of light at right angle for Harry to be revealed.

He needed to change his shape. But to what? To a Jaffa? It would work maybe at first, but not for long – every person on the ship was counted and known but just about everyone else, if he transformed into one of them he would be caught quicker than a cat would be. Same went with the servants – and there were no other animals on the ship! Maybe he ought to try something smaller, a snake or a mouse perhaps – how did their anatomy go again…

"Here!" Someone called, and Harry knew it was too late. Before he could do more than prepare himself for another mad dash, there was two Jaffa standing before him, staff weapons held aimed at him. Harry drew a breath, preparing to launch off, when the violent red electricity raced across the fire heads of the staffs, and they were already firing.

Mad with panic, Harry concentrated. The first blast went a little to the side of him, and as the other raced towards him, fast as a bullet, he concentrated onto the only thing he had left that was his, his breath, and transformed.

x

Harry went through the ships filtration system nearly dozen times before he managed to regain his consciousness, and realise what had happened. By that time most of him was drifting in the glider bay while another part was in the bridge and then there was hint of him in the galley and on the personal quarters of Apophis better prized Jaffa – and hints of Harry were elsewhere as well, all around the ship. The feeling was so disconcerting and strange that it took him some time to realise _what_ he was.

He had transformed into _air_.

As far as way of surviving went, it wasn't bad. But then again… it was very, very bad. Already Harry was scattered to nearly every corner of the ship, with next to no way of pulling himself together. It wasn't a painful feeling, thank Merlin, it didn't fell much like anything except in the filtration system where the cooling units smothered his comfortable warm vibration, but still. He couldn't do anything, but drift along with the other air molecules, in the circle of the ventilation, aimless and endless and utterly helpless.

If he ever had doubted about whether his ability to transform was magic or something more natural, he didn't anymore. There was no natural way for a man to turn into a cat and then into air, and keep sentience in every singles scattered piece of him – which he had. He would've liked the realisation to happen in any other way, though, because as easy as it had been to turn into air, it didn't seem so easy to turn something else again. Though he was grateful, extremely grateful, that something about living beings, their auras perhaps, repelled him and he didn't get breathed in – being integrated into their cells as oxygen for muscles to burn would not have been good for him.

He saw lot of the ship though – after couple of hours, there wasn't much of it he hadn't seen. The ventilation took him everywhere from top to bottom, to crooks and alcoves and hidden little niches, from small rooms to big ones and back again, down every corridor and even into the most tightly sealed vaults and into the mechanisms of the system, into the crystal arrays and circuitry. He had wondered before about the technology Ha'tak – he had seen how it was commanded, but how did it work? Nothing on Earth could've ever accomplished such a feat, he was sure of that, and he rather doubted that the thing ran on gas.

The thing, he found, ran on liquid Naquadah, that was contained in some dozen enormous containment units in the heart of the ship. He had learned about Naquadah with Amunet, but he could feel it now – though he couldn't get to the liquid naquadah, obviously, or anywhere near it even as air, he learn to know the atoms of it when he ran around the ship. Most of it was made of the stuff, of it mixed with other metals. And he had learned enough Goa'uld to understand what the men in the power room talked about, as he passed through.

None of that helped him retain a more physical form, though, not before he found that by intentionally bouncing against other molecules, he could sort of move. It was awkward and not as much moving as it was manipulating where he went. The more irritated he was, the more he vibrated, the faster he went, and the slower he did, the slower he went. He eventually figured out how to go up or down and how to navigate the drag and pull of the ventilation system, until he could stall himself and stop his bits and pieces from being dragged into the ventilation.

In the cargo hull, he started stalling. First molecule by molecule, then a little faster as he figured the trick out until a sort of cloud of him, invisible and intangible to anyone but him, but growing. He lost his eyes and ears in the living quarters and eventually in the bridge and slowly everywhere else, as he was bit by bit gathered into single cluster.

All in all, it took him weeks, maybe longer, to finish – and by the end of it he was something like exhausted but not quite, as he had no muscles to strain. He was also more than ready to take a single shape again, something solid and whole that couldn't be blown into bits so easily.

He didn't dare to become a cat again, lest he be hunted again, nor did he want to test his luck at being human or anything else of the sort. Instead, he took lesson from his ability to transform into air, which wasn't exactly a living breathing entity, and went for something less… animate.

And so, he turned into perfect duplicate of one of the smaller crates in the cargo hull. He fell atop another, larger crate in loud but painless clatter and then settled down, heavy and empty and fell into semblance of sleep, his mind resting after the long, arduous process to become one again.

He woke up, if it could be called that since he hadn't actually been sleeping, when brisk hands grabbed his handles and begun to carry him away. He wasn't the only one – the other crates were being brought up as well by strong Jaffa, who in single neat line carried them towards what Harry had learned to be a ring transporters – the way one travelled between ships and ship and a planet without having to make the journey manually. Harry, and the other crates, were settled down inside the ring platform, one on top of another, until all of them were in a single pile.

Being demolecularized was a little too much like dispersing into air, but thankfully Harry didn't feel it as closely, and before he knew it he was whole again, sitting on a floor of a corridor with the other crates. There were more Jaffa there, and as efficient as the ones who had carried the crates earlier, these ones unloaded the pile and begun to carry them away, into neat rows in a storage room, where one by one they were opened, and their insides unloaded. Weapons and boxes, with some strange sort of equipment thrown in, until one of the Jaffa came to him.

"This one is empty," he pronounced with a frown, glancing at the others.

"It looks like there was one crate over anyway," another said, checking a tablet of some sort. "Must be a mistake in loading. Leave it."

And so Harry was left. The other crates were emptied or at least checked, and the gear inside was taken away. Then the door was closed, and the storage room was left into darkness, with the extra crate locked inside. Harry waited silently for a while, before quickly sliding out of the form of a crate and into something more comfortable. Not a cat, though, probably not ever again, but into a form of one of the falcons he had seen at the Abydonian village, kept for hunting the small bit of game the dry world had to offer.

After taking a moment in the darkness to appreciate his form – it was much like the vulture form he had donned for warmth, but smaller, sleeker and infinitely more elegant – Harry looked around. It didn't seem that there was an easy way out, but he took to wing anyway, to check the air vents of the place and the door, before realising that he could open the door by just pushing a button – which he was quick enough to do.

He wasn't on a ship, that he figured out quickly enough. There was land and buildings outside the windows as he passed them by with quick wing beats – not dried, dead one like that of Abydos, but lush and green, with some buildings being as high as some skyscrapers on Earth, others holding near to the ground. Harry didn't give the sights more than a cursory glance, more interested in finding a open window or a door to a balcony or anything. He did find one, eventually, though he had to huddle in the ceiling beams for a while, until the guard passed and he could fly out of the window without anyone noticing.

Feeling a little like a traitor for leaving Sha're and Amunet like he had, even if it wasn't entirely his fault, Harry angled quick to the sky, to look at the place from above. It wasn't a village, or a town, but a city that seemed to stretch on and on. There was an enormous palace, from which Harry had escaped, as well as several pyramids here and there, some with ships landed on top of them. Below, Harry's sharp eyes could see people, walking along the streets, most in Egyptian sort of linen garbs, most with jewellery. And, as he carefully made his way lower, he saw that most had imperious expressions glowing eyes.

Goa'uld. That made the city below one of capital planets, probably Memphis or Akhentaten.

Taking a perch on one roof top and peering down at the people below, Harry smothered the urge to shudder. So many beings just like Amunet and Apophis. No where near as many as even the smallest cities of Earth had humans, but still, a _lot_ of them. And he did not particularly want to remain in their presence, not after what he had seen – nor after leaving Sha're behind. He didn't know if there had been anything he could've done for her, probably not, but there was definitely nothing he could do for her now.

Well, Daniel and Teal'c had promised to her that they'd find her, and free her. Harry would have to trust them that they would – Daniel certainly had more incentive, considering that Sha're was his wife, and not just kind companion she had been to Harry.

Shaking his head, he took to wing again, with the intention of finding the Stargate and seeing if he could go somewhere not so completely inhabited by the kin of Sha're's demon. As he did, though, he couldn't help but circle about the city for a while, appreciating the scenery. Goa'uld were many things, but their architecture was nothing to sneeze at. There was a sort of megalomaniac magnificence to it all, and as terrifying and horrible as some of it, overall, it was rather nice to look at.

It was somewhere in the middle of his third circle, that he realised how much he liked flying as a falcon. Vulture had been neat to fly as too, but there had been a sort of inherent clumsiness to the vulture form, and the fact that it had been made for endurance and distance, and not speed. Not to mention about the overly large wings, so clumsy outside air, and the neck.

Falcon was a whole different thing. Smooth lines blending into each other, elegant and body perfectly conditioned for speed and for attacking. He knew he could never fly the sort of distances as a falcon as he could as a vulture, but still, flying was somehow more enjoyable as falcon, freer. There was no sense of nearly listing to the side or possibly falling out of the sky, but instead his wing strokes were as elegant as sure as the rest of his body, and he could go against wind just as easily, as he went with it – even if with little more strain.

He doubted he would've minded a longer chance to remain a falcon, but eventually he saw the Stargate – the blue flash of the gate opening, and then the shimmer of it settling down to the calmer surface once could walk through and into another world. Settling down to a stone monument little ways from it, Harry watched the security procedures of the gate and the shield that covered it before it was released to admit visitors. With good half a dozen Jaffa at each side, and the shield… there was no way he could just fly through it.

A different method had to be devised. There was also the fact that he had no idea where to go. He knew some addresses now, but they were all to Goa'uld worlds. He would've much preferred one without any of them about, if there was such a place. Besides Earth, anyway.

While watching how the Jaffa stepped aside to let group of three golden eyed Goa'uld into the city, Harry wondered if it was possible for him to take the shape of a possessed human – and make it believable. He needed to do some research.

x

The days passed and Harry didn't leave the planet. First it was because he didn't dare to storm the gate, as it was, then it was because, well.

The first day he flicked back and forth between the shapes of snakes and various birds, and spied on the Goa'uld of the city. It was a bit uncomfortable at first, he wasn't that used to sneaking about, life as a cat aside, not to mention about the fact that he needed some idea how something worked to be able to turn into it. Birds and snakes were good, but not good enough, he needed something like smaller. Something small, flying and easily overlooked – like a bug. And that was what made the first day awkward, more than anything else.

Things like cats, birds, air, even cargo containers were easy, he knew roughly how their anatomy went. Not that air or a crate had much anatomy, but anyway. Something like a bug, though? Not so much. He had to catch what felt like endless amount of cockroaches and beetles and such and dissect them in various different forms with various different levels of eyesight, before he had some idea about how insects worked. And only once he had the chitin and the numerous legs, the difficulty arranged jaws and the like figured out he finally managed the transformation.

After that, the spying got a little easier. It was simplest thing in the world to turn into a beetle – as big as beetles here were – and fly in through an open window to take look at this or that Goa'ulds personal possessions. First he was just trying to figure out some simple things, like whether there were planets other than Earth and in lesser degree Abydos with no Goa'uld, and how he could get there, then if he could turn into a Goa'uld himself. It took him days to find the right people to spy – a healer of sorts with variety of weird equipment, and a engineer in process of programming a new type of navigation system – but after that…

There was so much to see. Harry had never been that interested in technology – aside from wanting to have a go at Dudley's computer – but the Goa'uld tech was much more interesting. Maybe it was the whole knowing-the-atoms-of-naquadah thing, or having ran rampant on a Ha'tak vessel, but there was odd sort of fascination about the stuff he couldn't stop himself from feeling. It was so unlike anything Muggles of Earth had that it might as well be magic. And he rather missed magic.

There were of course the weapons – a lot of Goa'uld weapons were manufactured on Memphis, because the Goa'uld didn't want to risk having factories like the ones required to produce their staffs of hand weapons of multitude of grenades on Jaffa planets – which could be over taken much easier. There were also the other things, the intricate insiders of consoles and the difficult manufacturing of the many hand devices, and of course the key components of space ships – and the eternity project that was Stargate, which Goa'uld had only _not_ created, but which they couldn't even duplicate, not even after several thousands of years of trying.

Harry paid especial attention to the weapons and the shop components, though. He had a feeling he would need that knowledge more, than whatever the Goa'uld did or didn't know about Stargates.

The technology wasn't all he was interested of, though. There was Goa'uld physiology too, which was a little trickier than technology, and little more nasty. The Goa'uld, who he had thought were sort of spirits or something like that, turned out to be snake like parasites that literally had humans for hosts. Harry was there when one of the Goa'uld scientists dissected a Goa'uld larvae that had died just little short of it's maturity. The thing had nothing like what Harry knew as organs – no stomach, no guts, no liver, etc, instead it had glands of variety of purposes. One that regulated the naquadah in it's blood stream, another that melted the nutrients and whatnot absorbed through the skin, and good seven different ones, hormonal and otherwise, that played key roles in the whole taking-a-host-thing…

If Harry was to try and mimic Goa'uld possessing a human, it would be tricky, he doubted he could be two different being all at once, but… he was pretty sure he could manage a close enough mimicry. The glowing eyes and voice he could do, though. That he tested enough times to know for sure.

But his research wasn't still done, because the more he learned, the more curious he became. Aside from the essentials, he also found himself listening into titbits of history and Goa'uld philosophy, as gruesome as it was. Then there was gossip. The Goa'uld gossiped about each other with such malicious glee that no man or woman on Earth could've ever matched it. Between themselves they talked about territories and battles, new technologies and their weaknesses, they talked about the defeats of their kin and their victories and, most often than not, the disgraces that had befallen over this or that Goa'uld lord.

No wonder Goa'uld had no technology for news reporting or anything of the sort. They didn't need it – news travelled between them fast enough, on the wings of gossip.

It was through the gossip that Harry learned about the Tok'ra. He was trying to learn more about a battle taking place between Apophis and Ba'al in some minor star system where the Goa'uld mined the materials for their crystals, when the Goa'uld he had been eavesdropping started to talk about something else instead. About a prisoner, who had been taken several months back, and who was still being kept as a prisoner in the Memphis palace. A Tok'ra spy called Cordesh.

"Pathetic vermin," one of the Goa'uld women snarled, clenching her fist around the hand device that Goa'uld used to torture and, sometimes, to fight. "I can't wait for the day when they are wiped out. They have been the scourge of the System Lords for far too long."

The other shook his head, in agreement. "Co-existing with a host," he said in perfect distain. "The day they are gone I will eat and drink for as long as there is food on my table, and break a prim'ta in toast of the happy day."

Harry, in his small beetle form, shuddered. He had seen that particular practice – when Goa'uld in certain ceremonies ate their own young – and once had been enough. The sound of the Tok'ra interested him though, and after the pair he had been spying changed the subject, he took off again, to find more.

The Tok'ra, it turned out, were a family of Goa'uld descending from an old queen, who didn't believe the way most Goa'uld did. They lived in semblance of Harmony with their hosts, had no Jaffa servants and kept no slaves. Instead, they lived in hiding, forced into it by the systematic hunting by the other Goa'uld who wanted nothing less than to see them gone, and were much like freedom fighters.

The Tok'ra Cordesh had been captured on a ship some time ago, and after that had been kept as a prisoner – and tortured quite often for information. He had given very little away, it seemed, and now days was just kept because Apophis didn't want him dead quite yet, not when there was a chance he might still prove to be of use.

Too curious to stop himself, Harry switched forms into one of the swift local birds that was a little like a swallow, and set out to find this prisoner, and see what he could learn from a Goa'uld, who had rejected the Goa'uld ways.

He found Cordesh in a gravity-controlled cell, which was like a pit in a wall, and quite successful prison thanks to smooth walls and no escape, except the entrance which, when the artificial gravity was engaged, was far too high above the prisoner for him to be able to climb. Or, her, as it turned out to be – Cordesh was in the form of terrifyingly young little girl, who sat huddled in corner of the prison, hugging her knees and obviously miserable.

Harry sat in the edge of the prison's only entrance, and watched him/her for a long while, wondering. If all the girl Tok'ra would do, would be to huddle in a corner not moving, there was a little he could learn from him/her. Whichever it was. For a moment he seriously considered changing shapes and just talking to the… the Tok'ra, but decided against it immediately. He hadn't give up his shape shifting abilities yet, and he wasn't about to start not, not even with the enemy of the Goa'uld who apparently cared for their hosts. Enemy of his enemy was not necessarily his friend – the Goa'uld had lot of enemies, most of whom were just as bad as they were. And it didn't seem much like caring for one's host, really, to have such a young one anyway.

So instead, Harry flew on, and to the closest terminal where, after checking the corridor and making sure there were no people of surveillance equipment about, he took the form of one of the Serpent Guard – with armour and helmet and all – and then turned to access the information. It was a little clumsy at first – it was first time he had the form of a Jaffa and it was a little harder to see through the visual interface of the helmet than he had thought. On top of that, he had never actually interacted with Goa'uld technology before, just seen it done by other people, and he miss-pressed a whole lot of buttons before getting to the records.

And what a records they were. Cordesh, very shortly after his capture, had been removed from his host and placed into another one – the one he habited now. His original host, a male human, had been taken over by a Goa'uld, Anker, who had been tasked with the mission of spying on the Tok'ra, discovering their location and then engineering their downfall.

All of which had already happened, it turned out. The ambush had failed – the Tok'ra tunnels had been destroyed, but none of the Tok'ra had been captured in the attack. Anker had failed to answer any communications since, and it was presumed that he had been discovered and executed by the Tok'ra.

Cordesh on other hand had been kept for further interrogation – plus a world of torture, if what Harry read was correct. There were even malicious side notes about how pathetic Cordesh was and how, "the crying of his host can be heard day and night, further confirming the weakness of the Tok'ra vermin."

Harry studied a little further curiously, and found out a little more about the Tok'ra. Aside from being known spies, they did also a lot of sabotaging and occasional thievery, if they could, capturing Al'kesh and such mostly, they didn't have the man power to take a Ha'tak, although at least ten Ha'tak of various System Lords had been lost to the Tok'ra sabotage. Their most known and most hated deed though, had to do with the Tau'ri rebellion, thousands of years back – their Queen, Egeria, had been apparently part of the reason as to why humans had managed to overthrow Goa'uld in Earth, having organized the destruction of entire fleet and crippling Ra and his allies for nearly hundred years.

And all her children hence had been following her lead, even after she had been captured.

Turning down the power of the console, Harry turned a thoughtful look towards the row of gravity prisons. The Tok'ra sounded like a people he might get a long a little better, than he did with the Goa'uld. But what to do about the knowledge – and more importantly, what to do about Cordesh and his tragically young host?

Sliding out of the form of a Jaffa guard, and into that of the alien swallow, Harry flew off, plotting a prison break.

x

Rigging a distraction was easily enough done. Rigging several of them to occur in succession was a little harder, but in his time among the Goa'uld Harry had learned better than do anything by halves. And so, about half a week later in middle of a night, he flew to the prison again while other side of the city, warning bells begun to rang loudly, and Jaffa begun to dash about, trying to find the intruder that wasn't really there, in Goa'uld's most priced breeding facility.

By the time the second distraction was loosed and a delicate experiment in one of the factories broke out to massive wave of radiation, Harry was already at Cordesh's prison, in shape of young man with glowing eyes and warbled voice, turning the gravity off. The little girl in the bottom – or now, in the back end, as the gravity turned the prison from a hole into a dead-end corridor, looked up, frowning.

"What now?" Cordesh asked, distorting the little girl's voice the way the Goa'uld did, but without the glowing eyes. "Now we run," Harry said in better Goa'uld than he had feared and held out his free hand. Mean while he let go of the glow of his eyes, since it seemed that Tok'ra weren't into that one. Good for him – it felt weird, to make one's eyes glow. Not that the voice was any better, but he kept that, just for appearance's sake. "Come on, we have only so long to get to the Stargate."

Cordesh frowned, looking him up and down, taking in the rich linen and silk clothing and jewellery Harry had included into his transformation. Then she looked at the bundle of clothing in Harry's other arm and asked, "Your name, Tok'ra."

"I'm not a Tok'ra," Harry answered, and held out his hand a little more insistently. "Come on. What have you got to lose, except existence of pain and misery? If I get you killed, at least you and your host will have a moment of freedom."

Cordesh considered this only for a moment, before coming forward, first cautiously and then with more strength in her steps as Harry swung the cloak he held open for her. No more words were exchanged as Harry bundled the little girl into the dark cloak, though Cordesh did let out a small yelp of indignation as Harry lifted her into his arms. It was the only protest he made, though, before Harry was already running, away from the prison, weaving through the blind spots in the surveillance system and out of the palace, into the garden on the balcony of the palace.

That was when the first explosion took place, rocking the city and taking out the energy grid of the facilities. Most of Goa'uld technology had their own energy sources, but not the buildings, and as the power centre was taken, the whole city went dark under the twin moons, and stars.

Cordesh held Harry's neck a little tighter, her eyes wide as the entire city started to roar in panicked alarm. "What did you do?"

"Hm. This and that," Harry answered and smirked, unable to help himself. After all the things he had seen and heard, it was pretty nice, to cause some havoc in the perfectly horrible little Goa'uld city. "Goa'uld leave so many explosives lying about." It had been something of a bother to get those explosives where he wanted them to go, but little shock grenade just in the right spot could cause _such_ a system failure. And the Goa'uld weren't used to having their equipment fail, and had next to none security measures there. "It probably won't kill anyone, though." Most of the places he had targeted were unmanned stations. So far, anyway.

Shaking his head he turned and then, after little bit of concentration, dropped down over the wall of the balcony garden, and down to the dark yard below. "To my back, " Harry said, shifting Cordesh in his arms until the girl was on his back, riding piggyback. "Hold on," Harry then said, once the girl had her arms and legs around him, and started to run.

Across the yard, and to hide in a crook of a wall, facing the palace where, just then, the ventilation system started coughing, blowing smoke into every room of the place. Smiling with satisfaction – having been air on a Ha'tak had it's perks, he knew just what to break in a system like that - Harry turned, and begun to follow the wall to the spot, where he had left a rope earlier.

"How could you do all this?" Cordesh asked, still staring back at the palace. "You did this, didn't you?"

"I did, but let's talk about that later," Harry answered, dropping down to the street. "We have only so much time left before the next one will be triggered." With that said, he begun to run along the shadows, before he heard something that made him stop. Rhythmic footsteps of a Serpent Guard on march.

Hesitating only a moment, Harry kneeled down. "Go, hide," he snapped to Cordesh, who didn't need to be told twice. As the little girl hid in the alcove on a alleyway, Harry straightened robes before turning to peer at the palace with practiced disgust. As the Jaffa came close enough, he turned a furious pair of eyes at them. "Attention, Jaffa!" he demanded. "What is going on at the palace?"

"We do not know yet, my lord," the Jaffa in lead said, bowing his head. "We are just making out way –"

"At a snail's pace, the lazy sloth's you are," Harry scoffed. "Our lord Apophis will hear of your idleness! Now get to work, and figure out what is going on before I have my personal guard come and take you into hand."

The Jaffa stiffened, and then straightened. "Yes, my lord," he said, and then called his company to attention. After that, the continued along, this time running rather than walking, but still in perfect rhythm with each other.

Harry waited until they were gone, and relaxed a little. He would need to practice is Goa'uld distain a little more – that had been no where near proper Goa'uld behaviour. Well, it didn't matter. "Come on," he said, to the shadows kneeling down again. "We need to go."

The Tok'ra was quick to come forth and to climb to his back again, though her hands shook a bit as she clutched onto him. She said nothing, though that was probably because Harry was already making a mad dash away and she didn't get much a chance to speak.

The rest of the way to the square where the gate was went a little easier – they passed no Jaffa and Harry managed to avoid the few Goa'uld in the streets watching the smoking palace with mingled amusement and disgust. Getting to the gate was easier than getting _to_ the gate, though, because even in this crisis the Jaffa still stood on guard there, six at each side, ready to defend against any incursions from either to the gate, or from it.

Even the latest distraction, which had came a little too soon and set the trading centre near by on fire, hadn't made them budge, and they held their ground firmly.

Well, they did, at least until Harry snuck to the hidden container of more stolen shock grenades, and threw them at them as quick as he could with all the skill of a seeker. Couple of flashes of brilliant white, and the gate was uncovered – and after that it was only the matter of crossing the street, taking the shield controller from one of them, turning off the shield and dialling the gate.

"Where are we going?" Cordesh asked.

"To one of the planets of the Lok'na co," Harry answered, having learned of the empty, depleted mining planets in his studies of the Goa'uld, already dialling the gate by pressing the six symbols to the pedestal, and finally the point of origin. "From there we will go elsewhere, in case someone catches the address here."

"Good," Cordesh said, and looked behind them while Harry marched up to the gate, and through it.

xx

A little more variety in Harry's shapeshifting. It'll start being a bit overpowered soon, but that was my plan from the start. Maybe I should put a super!Harry warning to this after all...

I'll be going to the annual Nanowrimo break now, and though I'd post this before I go. Cheerios.

My apologies for possible grammar errors.


	5. Chapter 5

Warnings; (ridiculously implausible and more than slightly overpowered)ShapeShifter!Harry and stuff. The year is currently 1998 in the story.

**Journeyman  
****5.**

They didn't talk much, by the time they made it to a world they thought to be safe enough to stay for a while. They might've tried a few planets more, just in case the Goa'uld had some way of tracking them, but Harry decided that three ought to be enough. Mostly it was because that was when Cordesh, her body too young and too frail after imprisonment and near starvation, fell asleep in Harry's arms, giving into human weaknesses despite a Goa'uld's…. a Tok'ra's strength.

Harry, figuring that she would only get weaker unless she had her rest and some food, left her sleeping in a hidden alcove between some rocks, and then took the form of a falcon. The world was empty as far as he knew, but he still stayed close as he hunted for anything that might be edible, from fruits and vegetables to bouncing hare which turned out was much easier to snatch, than a low hanging fruit.

After the atrocities he had seen in Memphis, skinning, gutting and awkwardly starting to roast the hare over campfire wasn't that difficult to stomach, though the results were more or less a disaster, as he managed to burn half of the thing and the other side was left a little raw – but that didn't stop Cordesh from digging into it with gusto, when she finally awoke.

"What are you?" the Tok'ra asked, after the badly cooked meat, the dirty vegetables and the slightly raw fruit were mostly gone, Harry having eaten his share of it as well. "Why did you help me escape, if you're not a Tok'ra?"

"I could," Harry answered, shifting back and leaning against one of the rocks of their little hiding place. "I was among the –Goa'uld for a while, unseen. I wanted my departure to… mean something," he added, shrugging his shoulders. After having failed Sha're and Amunet, he hadn't wanted to slink away like he had never been there.

"Among the Goa'uld, as a Goa'uld?" Cordesh asked sharply.

"Not really," Harry answered and then gave her, him, whatever she was, a thoughtful look. "Let me speak with your host," he then said, wondering. So far I had only been Cordesh in control. If Tok'ra really were what they were, then Harry ought to have been able to speak with the host too.

Cordesh frowned, looking away for a moment. "She is young and frightened," he then said, sounding part disgusted, part sorrowful. "Her age and unsuitability as a host was as much a torture on their part, as everything else. I have… kept her asleep, for her sake, most of the time. It was all I could do to shield her."

"Then wake her up and let me talk to her," Harry said, lifting an eyebrow. "And no cheating," he added. "I have enough Goa'uld in me to sense if you're still in control, I can feel it in the surge of Naquadah in your blood." He had read enough about Goa'uld pretending to be Tok'ra to know how to tell – even if it wasn't strictly speaking a natural ability of a Goa'uld.

"Can you really?" Cordesh asked, sounding fascinated, and Harry just snorted, waving at him, her, to get a move on. After a moment, the Tok'ra shifted awkwardly and closed her eyes, bowing her head. She was true to her word – the surge subsided, and the host was put back in control.

She blinked, looked up at Harry, and screamed. "No more, no more! Ilyna is good girl, Ilyna won't do anything bad, no more, please!" she cried, trying to back away, and Harry's heart broke a little, even as he reached for her, to talk hold of her shoulder.

"Shh, girl," he said, letting go of the distortion of the voice of Goa'uld and Tok'ra, and becoming entirely human – or as much human as he could in his current form, which was still that of a make-belief-Goa'uld, with Naquadah and golden tinged skin and all. "Shh, it's alright. You're safe now, you're free. I'm not going to hurt you."

It took a little more than that to calm the poor creature down, and Harry suspected it wasn't just his efforts but also Cordesh' that made her stop wailing and crying and quiet her screaming to panting and sobbing. Harry managed to coax her out of the tense ball she wrapped herself into, and into his lap where she begun to sob in earnest, clutching onto Harry's linen and silk robes for dear life.

He could understand the whole torture of having a host too young better, after that. If Tok'ra were like the reputation said they were, then it would've been a torture, to have such a terrified host, especially when there was little the Tok'ra could do, to make her situation a better one. The mention in the archive of Cordesh's imprisonment, about how the Host would be killed in most painful way should Cordesh leave her, made a little more sense too. By staying in her, at least he was able to shield her some of the pain, but by leaving her he would've condemned to painful death, even while the act would've been more or less a suicide on his part.

At Harry's coaxing and cajoling – he even altered his throat enough to manage a comforting purr, which made her giggle – she told him of her mother and father, what little she could remember, and her elder brother who had been taken by the glowy-eyes. She also told him about Cordesh, who made her sleep, but who also told her stories about distant worlds and how one day the Goa'uld would be no more.

"How do you like Cordesh?" Harry asked, running a hand through her dirty, slightly matted hair and wondering if there was any way he could arrange her to have a bath sometime soon.

"Cordesh is… not bad," Ilyna said, frowning thoughtfully in all the seriousness of a four-year-old. "I would still like to be home, but Cordesh says home is gone now." She looked up and to him. "Cordesh wants to speak with you."

"Do you want to stay longer, or do you want to let him speak?" Harry asked, lifting his eyebrows a little. He would not speak with the Tok'ra, if it would distress the little girl who had only barely calmed down as it was.

"She says it's important," Ilyna said, biting her lip and then shaking her head. "I don't mind. Cordesh is knows a lot, I don't."

"Okay then," Harry agreed, and pressed a kiss to her forehead. She then, for Cordesh. Sometimes it was hard to tell with Goa'uld, given that their species had fairly weird gender definitions. "It was very nice meeting you, Ilyna. If you want to talk to me, don't be afraid. I'm only trying to help you."

"Okay," she nodded seriously. "I'm sorry about screaming. I thought you were one of the glowy-eyes."

"It's okay, it's not your fault," Harry promised and with a nod she bowed her head and when she looked up again, he could feel that she was Cordesh once more. "Thank you for confirming my optimism," Harry said simply, making the Tok'ra blink "You're… welcome," Cordesh said slowly, frowning through Ilyna's eyes and then shook her head and shifted down from Harry's lap, to sit by her own power. "Ilyna's understandably frightened, but I've been trying to explain things to her. Her home world is gone, taken by Apophis some year or so ago, I believe. It is doubtful that any of her family are still alive, except perhaps as hosts."

Harry nodded, having figured as much. "How were you captured?" he asked, that part having not been included in the reports of Cordesh's interrogations and torture sessions and whatnot.

"I was on board a Ha'tak on a mission to planet of the Reol," Cordesh sighed. "It was a very delicate mission for the Goa'uld and their security was tighter than usual. They caught me, before I managed to do as much as to sent warning back to the other Tok'ra."

"Reol," Harry repeated, thinking about it. He heard or read of anything of that name in his time at Memphis. "I don't know that name."

"The Reol are humanoid race that evolved in the Re'emel star system. They are peaceful and pacifistic to the point of suicide," Cordesh said bitterly. "Had they been completely human, I doubt the Goa'uld would've had much interest in them, but the Reol produce a sort of enzyme that affects the minds of others, making them see and trust in illusions. It's a defence mechanism, how the Reol survive in their own world which has… had some highly dangerous predators."

"See and trust in illusions, hm?" the shape shifter hummed, thoughtful. "How does that work?"

"I don't know for sure. It was my mission to find out and, if possible, save as many Reol as I managed. All I know that for the Jaffa who attacked, it seemed like they were attacking their most trusted and respected friends and brothers, and all of them not only laid down their arms, but fought against their own people in defence of the Reol," Cordesh said. "That was before the orbital bombardment by the Ha'tak, of course – and that was the point when I was discovered."

"Huh," Harry answered, running a hand over his head – tightly braided in Memphis's most popular fashion and little odd to him. "That was what, four, five months back?"

"I think so, yes. It was hard to tell time in captivity, though," Cordesh answered and sighed, shifting a little where she sat. "I imagine by this time there is not much left of that world. And the damage the Goa'uld spy that took my host…" she grimaced and fell silent.

"The spy, Anker, was sent to your Tok'ra allies," Harry said. "That was months ago though. There was attack on caves, but as far as records said, no Tok'ra were captured or killed – and Anker has failed to report back afterwards. He was probably discovered."

Cordesh looked up to him with sharp eyes and then visibly relaxed, very nearly slumping down where she sat. "That's… that's good to hear. Very good," she said, drawing and then releasing a slow, quivering breath. "They must've relocated since," she said. "Probably to a planet I don't know, a planet the Goa'uld couldn't have found out from him or he from my poor Firnan."

Harry nodded, looking at her. "What will you do now?" he asked. "Find the other Tok'ra?"

"I would… like to," Cordesh admitted uneasily. "But I suspect I have little in ways of finding them. I could leave a message to one of the worlds where the Tok'ra under cover leave their reports, but I suspect even those have been changed since my capture. And it is doubtful that my reputation among the Tok'ra is still intact, after what the Goa'uld spy did."

"Maybe they know it wasn't you, now that they've caught the actual spy?" Harry suggested.

"They might, or they might believe that my return is merely another attempt on the Goa'uld's part, in inserting yet another spy under my name," Cordesh said, and shook her head. "It is in the nature of my kind of be suspicious of all such incidents." She thought about it for a moment. "I believe I will leave them a message, if I can. After that I must hide, and look to the needs of my host. And maybe, if the opportunity presents itself, take another host and free her from her torment."

"And take away from her the only buffer between her, and the horror's she's gone through?" Harry asked and stood up, stretching. "Give it time, and once she's calmed down, ask her whether she'd like to be alone again. She didn't sound that adverse to it to me."

"She's young, and frightened – and not a suitable host," Cordesh answered, shifting uneasily. "I can't protect her from her body. It is too weak."

Harry shrugged. "Kid's grow," he said, and concentrated a little. After a moment, he was out of the Goa'uld form, and in that of a plain clothed man, not quite himself or the Goa'uld - or the Abydonian he had once been - but something older and bigger. It was mix of some of the Jaffa he had seen, of Teal'c, of some slaves of the Goa'uld and some of the bigger Abydonians, and the result was a man a little better prepared to carry a four year old about hours on end, than Harry's other humanoid forms would've been.

"How do you plan to leave the message?" he asked, while Cordesh stared at him with mouth hanging open.

"How did you…" the Tok'ra asked, utterly astonished.

Harry smiled, a little sheepish, and crouched down. At the height of nearly seven feet, he was far too tall to meet the girl's eyes easily while standing, especially when she was still sitting down. "Secret, which I hope you won't make me regret sharing with you," he said and held out a hand which was about as big as average shovel now. "Come on. I'll take you where you need to go – and I think I can take care of the both of you until we get there."

"B-but how –" Cordesh started before closing her mouth and giving him a frown, a look entirely too serious on such a cute face. "Why are you helping me?" she then asked.

"At this moment I don't have much else to do. And after the time I spent in Memphis, I want to do something good," Harry answered, and as the girl took his hand, he lifted her to his left arm, easily holding her up. "Also, I'm curious about the Reol," he added, as he turned to carry Cordesh and Ilyna towards the Stargate. "I'd like to hear more about them.

"I… very well," the Tok'ra said. "I'll tell you everything I know."

The messaging device of the Tok'ra was gone from the first two planets they checked out, but it was there on the third, and Cordesh left a short, succinct message about her capture, imprisonment, and escape, mentioning Harry only as a unforeseen but fortunate ally that had decided to take the task of caring Cordesh and her young host by himself. At Harry's request, Cordesh made no mention about the transformation ability, but as the Tok'ra left the messaging service behind, she admitted that she wouldn't have, even if Harry hadn't asked.

"It is entirely possible that the device was left behind as a bait for the Goa'uld, and as a way to relay misleading information," Cordesh admitted, as they headed back to the gate. "But this will be good enough way to leave the message, the Tok'ra ought to be able to get it, even if the device was a bait."

"Alright," Harry agreed. "Now what?"

Cordesh looked at him from under Ilyna's eyebrows, and pushed back her still dirty blonde hair. "I thought you intended to… the Reol, I mean. I got the impression you were interested of saving them," she said uncertainly.

Harry hadn't actually – there was a little one could do for a world, after the Goa'uld had attacked it. "Is there something left to be done for them?" Harry asked, looking down at the small Tok'ra.

"Several of them escaped, I believe. The Goa'uld must be still hunting them – part of my interrogation was about it, them trying to figure out where the Reol had escaped. I didn't know, but the Goa'uld thought I did," Cordesh admitted. "I… failed to do anything for them, but perhaps you, with your ability…"

The shape shifter hummed. "Maybe," he agreed and ran a hand over his chin. "Apophis was the one who attacked the planet?"

"Klorel," Cordesh corrected.

"Even better."

x

Tracking down Klorel was easily done – he had learned enough of Apophis's son from Amunet to know how much noise the young Goa'uld made in life. With Cordesh's information about Jaffa worlds and neutral trading planets, Harry could slip in and out and gather rumours until he had semblance of knowledge about where Klorel's fleet was – and where it had been both during the attack on the Reol world, and after it.

"So, you think the worlds he visited afterwards were worlds where the Reol escaped to?" Cordesh asked, looking over the list of worlds Harry had written after his information gathering missions. "You might be right."

"Yeah, it makes sense, more or less," Harry answered, while examining some of the things he had… borrowed from the most recent trading world. Mostly clothing for Cordesh, but also some simple hygiene products, a hair brush, food, water and ways to carry them and so on. "Whether we find anything there is another thing. I'm pretty sure most of these are uninhabited though, and the Goa'uld have left since, so it shouldn't do much harm, to check them out."

"Yes, I agree," Cordesh said, glancing at the hairbrush Harry was holding and lifting her eyebrows.

"Yeah, first we need to find a place where you can bathe and clean up properly," Harry agreed. "I'm sorry, but I've spent too much as a cat and the smell is really not agreeing with me."

Cordesh nodded in agreement, seeming a little amused actually. They gathered their new things – or Harry did, and Harry carried pretty much all of them too – before heading off to a world where Cordesh knew there to be a hot spring near the gate. The Tok'ra spent good two hours washing and fighting with the matted hair, until Ilyna won over and good hour or so more was spent in playful splashing about in the spring.

"Come, Harry, play with me!" she called from the water, and after moment of consideration Harry turned from the big man he now mostly was, and into a small boy, much like what he had been at her age. Ilyna let out a delighted thrill and then started splashing water at him, which he returned with equal ferocity until the entire spring was more a battle field, than place of relaxation.

After Ilyna had tired herself out, Harry finished Cordesh's job at untangling her hair, and after drying it as well as he could he tied it into a sloppy braid. "Tell me a story," Ilyna demanded, stretched out in Harry's lap after wards, and awkwardly Harry told her of a unhappy boy from a unhappy family who could do magic but didn't know it, and who was then invited to join a world of people just like him. Ilyna was already asleep before Harry got to the troll, and looking at her Harry felt odd mix of feelings.

It was… what, over half a year, since he had been evicted of Earth? Over half a year since he had seen Ron or Hermione and the others - and he had never seen Teddy. And never would probably.

Running a hand over Ilyna's hair, Harry sighed and looked up to the sky. It wasn't a bad sort of life he had had as a exile so far. A little strange, but life as a wizard had been strange too. It would probably take some time more, before he really got used to it, though.

They left the following day, Harry, Cordesh and Ilyna, to the first of the planets Klorel had visited after the attack on the Reol. They found nothing there, but some signs of old battles and bombardment on the ground near the gate, and that's it. Cordesh spent some time examining the tracks and trying to see what had happened, before pronouncing that death gliders and maybe an Al'kesh had probably hunted down a group of people to the gate.

"So, there were some Reol here," Harry mused, eying the ground. It told him very little. "Do you suppose they got away?"

"Probably. There was no ambush at the gate, as far as I can tell," Cordesh said. "There is this, though," he said, and picked up a flat piece of stone where something had been written in dark red. Six strange symbols. "I think this might be the Reol language."

"So, they left behind a note to anyone of their kind that might be following them, about where they went?" Harry asked, crouching down and taking what little paper he had, to copy the symbols down. He had no way of telling what they meant or what gate symbols they corresponded to, but it wouldn't hurt to make a note. "Let's go and have a look at the other worlds," he then said. "and keep an eye on more messages of the Reol."

They did. The second and the third were pretty much the repetition of the first, though the battle on the third had happened mostly on ground and there had been little aerial bombardment. There were no notes on the third one either, and Cordesh pronounced that there the Reol probably hadn't been able to escape.

The fourth one was as unlucky place as the first four, but whole different reasons. The dialling device of the Stargate there was destroyed.

"Damn it," Cordesh said at the sight of it, swearing for the first time Harry had known her, and ran to the device, to peer through the cracked red orb at the top, and to the crystals beneath. Most of them were burned "Aerial weapons fire, probably from a Glider – Al'kesh bomber would've done more damage," the Tok'ra said, climbing to the pedestal and starting to pick the crystal shards with a hopeless look about her face. "I doubt I can fix this. I doubt anyone could, without replacement crystals."

Harry nodded thoughtfully, looking about. "So, there was a fight here too, and the dialling device was hit," he mused, running a hand over his hair. "Now what?"

"Now we're stuck," Cordesh answered, dropping down from the device and looking about with mingled irritation. "Unless we can dial the gate manually, of course."

Harry nodded, having learned enough of Stargates to know how that worked – the Goa'uld had to do it more often than they liked, when something destroyed a dialling device. They could remake one, of course, but it was difficult process and took time, and so manyJaffaworlds for example could go without dialling device for months, when spontaneous staff battles took their original one out.

"Let's have a look around," he said, breathing in and out slowly. There was an interesting smell in the air, which his nose – that he kept a little better sensory levels than human noses usually were – could easily pick up. "I have a feeling about this place."

"We might as well," Cordesh sighed, and looked away from the gate. Together they headed away, to follow the trail of fighting in he ground, trying to find out what happened.

In the end it was more or less the same as it had been in the other planets. A group had been runningJaffaand ships had been chasing them. Except here they had first ran for the gate – and then away from it, after they had found that they couldn't dial it. The fighting and chasing had followed them, and some had fallen, though Harry and Cordesh found no bodies – the Goa'uld had taken those away for study, no doubt.

Eventually the tracks trickled down to nothing, and faded away – all the escapees had been caught or killed, and the chase had ended. Harry and Cordesh eyed the remains of the tracks sadly for a while, before turning to head back to the gate, having learned all they could.

"We could spend the night here," Harry mused after picking the tired Tok'ra and setting her to his arm. "It's as good a place as any, and it is getting dark here. We can work on dialling the gate tomorrow, when we're more refreshed."

"I suppose. How much food do we have?" Cordesh asked, one arm around Harry's bicep.

"Enough for couple of days, but it looks like this place is not bad for gathering and maybe little bit of hunting," Harry mused. He wouldn't mind taking an avian form for a while.

"So as long as you don't burn the meat this time," the Tok'ra said, yawning.

"It was just once," the shape shifter said defensively. "I'm more used to cooking over open flame now."

"Of course," Cordesh said with a slight smile, and leaned her cheek against Harry's shoulder. "Wake us when you find a good camp spot."

"Yeah, yeah," Harry answered, patting her hair and continuing to walk, already more than used to hauling her about and having her fall asleep on him. He hummed absently to himself, almost purring but not quite, and started planning a way to set camp. Maybe it was time they – or _he_ – started carrying a tent, and not just some blankets and enough food to survive. They camped out doors most of the time, a tent would make that easier.

In the end, he set the camp near the gate in shadow of some trees – without waking Cordesh or Ilyna, not before he had fire going and some food prepared. The Tok'ra gave him slightly irritated look but said nothing before withdrawing to let Ilyna, who liked eating much more than Cordesh did, to have the control.

"Are we going to find the hidden people here, Harry?" she asked, leaning to his side for warmth while nibbling on the awkward semblances of sandwiches Harry had made – which were more like alien tacos really.

"Probably not, sweetheart," Harry answered, reaching for one of the blankets and wrapping it around the little girl. He hadn't expected the night to be so cold here. Maybe he ought to… borrow some thicker clothing for her, if they returned to the trading world again. Some leather would keep her warm better. "We'll just spent the night here and move on. There are still couple of worlds to check," he said, and looked down at her. "Are you getting tired of travelling?"

"No, not really," she answered after a moment of serious thought and then shrugged her shoulders, easy and carefree. "It's better than being a prisoner. Travelling doesn't hurt."

Harry smiled and ran a hand over her blonde hair. It was both a little amusing and sad to hear her speak. She didn't talk much, but when she did she spoke with sort of eloquence that one didn't expect from four-year-olds. It was of course Cordesh's influence on her mind – she had learned to speak Goa'uld from the Tok'ra's memories, and her own language was one Harry didn't know. In few short years, maybe short months actually, she would probably be smarter and more knowledgeable than Harry would ever be, once Cordesh would dare to open the vastness of the Tok'ras own and racial memory to her.

That was, of course, if Cordesh would stay with her so long. The Tok'ra wasn't as guilty or eager to free Ilyna of a symbiote as she had been originally, but she still wasn't at ease with having such a young host.

"Harry? Could you purr again?" Ilyna asked after finishing eating, climbing to his lap where he wrapped the blanket more securely around her, before enclosing her in his arms.

"You like it when I purr, sweetheart?" Harry asked, amused.

"You sound like a big cat. It's nice," she answered, settling down with her ear pressed against his chest, to better hear and feel the sound.

With a chuckle, he acquiesced, shifting the form of his throat and then letting air flow through the certain pathways and folds that produced the sound, that in human form made his chest rattle a bit and didn't actually feel that bad. Ilyna let out a giggle and closed her eyes, shifting closer and listening, until she fell asleep.

Harry was still purring, some fifteen minutes after she drifted off, when the bushes near by shifted and rustled, and a shape stepped out. Harry frowned, at first not sure what he was seeing. There was a… smell in the air, that he could sense a little clearer, having air rattling in his feline vocal chords. It had a tinge to it, that was almost sweet. It made him oddly certain if what he was seeing was something new, or something old.

It looked like a skeletal humanoid, human-like only in placements of limbs, head, eyes, mouth… but at the same time, it looked like someone he knew, from Hogwarts – someone who had been with him when he had been running away from Voldemort with Ron and Hermione. Someone trusted, who had stand with him through thick and thin.

Except that was impossible.

Harry shifted where he stood, and defended himself against the alluring scent in oddly reflexive move which, thanks to his tinkering with his form to add a feline throat and olfaction system that was more canine each day, came upon his easy. His skin clamped down, his pores slamming shut, and his sense of smell vanished completely, his olfaction system with all it's carefully arranged cells disappearing. They were replaced by something else, something not entirely human – if Harry had time to think about it, he would've called it air filtration module, like that on board Goa'uld vessels, except organic. The air that reached his lungs afterwards was the purest he had ever breathed.

The image and memory of a old friend still lingered, easing at the edges of his mind, suggesting that the friend had also Ascended and been punished with him, and that they had been Sha're's cats together, but Harry could breach through it now, and see the truth.

"You must be one of the Reol," he said to the creature in Goa'uld, still lingering at the edges of the firelight. He nodded down at slumbering Ilyna. "You can come closer. My hands are full at the moment, and even if they weren't, I don't bite."

"You are…" the creature said, in broken, halting Goa'uld. "...not Goa'uld?"

"No, we're not. I'm Harry, this is Ilyna – and sometimes Cordesh," Harry answered. "She's Tok'ra. I'm just plain old me."

The creature nodded slowly, still lingering at the bushes. "You came… through the ring," it said – or he, Harry was pretty sure it was a he. "You are… stuck like us."

"Well, maybe. There is a way to dial the gate without the dialling device – its slower and takes more time, but you can turn the inside circle by hand to dial," Harry said.

"N-no," the creature said, shaking his head. "We try. There is… is no… what word," he stopped and Harry got the impression he was frowning. It was hard to say, though – the creature had a sort of sad face, with big eyes and low eyebrows, no nose and strange, sorrowful mouth, all of which seemed like the natural way the Reol features went – but Harry was pretty sure there was a frown there. "No oomph," he then said, sounding dissatisfied.

"Energy? Power?" Harry asked, trying not to laugh.

"Yes. No power. Gate… dead," the Reol said, nodding.

"I see," the shape shifter answered and frowned. There was still a chance that Cordesh could do something about it – the Goa'uld and the Tok'ra knew more about the technology behind a Stargate than many others in the galaxy. But if the thing really was dead with no way of making it work… stuck was probably what they were, in that case.

"Us," Harry said, turning to the Reol. "You said us and we. There are more of you?"

The creature hesitated, glancing away, uncertain. After a while, when it became obvious he wasn't about to speak and give away the numbers or locations or more or less anything about his fellows, Harry sighed. "Okay, are you guys doing alright? You have food, shelter, stuff like that?" he asked, glancing the creature from top to bottom. It looked naked and fragile to him, more a skeleton with skin than a healthy creature. Maybe the Reol stuck on the planet were starving? "Maybe I can help – I'm pretty good hunter…"

"No, we… fine, we fine," the Reol said, shaking it's head. "There is food… enough. Plants. We manage."

"Okay, that's good," Harry nodded, though he still couldn't help but wonder if that was really the truth. "Well, you can let your companions know that we mean you guys no harm, alright? We actually came looking for you to help, if we could."

"You? Help us?" the Reol asked, startled.

"Yes. Cordesh," Harry nodded at Ilyna, "knew about the attack on your home world. She was captured and imprisoned by the Goa'uld before she could do anything to help. There was little else we could do after we got away, so we started looking for you, to see if there was anything we could do."

The Reol stared at him, unblinking and looking very nearly tragic with it's big eyes and sorrowfully hanging eyebrows, but there was more thought and hint of suspicion about his face, than sadness. "You do not… fall under," he then said slowly. "My… my enzyme is not… effecting."

"It did at first, but I'm not letting it," Harry answered. It was a bit bewildering to know that he could stop a thing like that, but he could marvel at the ability later. This wasn't the time. "Your enzyme can't get into my system anymore. But, to your credit, the first seconds it did, it was very convincing. Really potent stuff, that enzyme of yours."

"You are…" the Reol started and then stopped, staring Harry hard for a long while. "How would you… help us?" he asked after a moment of thought.

"I don't know. To be honest, I didn't expect to find you," Harry answered. "Any way I could, I suppose. Cordesh probably has a better idea, though. Sanctuaries, security measures, making sure the Goa'uld won't find you again, that sort of thing."

The Reol nodded and then shifted where he stood. "I will be returning," he then said. "Tomorrow."

"We'll be here," Harry answered, and before he could think of a proper way to say farewell, the fidgety Reol had already vanished into the greenery.

x

"You could have woken us. I could have assured the Reol of our good intentions better," Cordesh grumbled the next morning while they examined the Stargate in the early morning light. The inspection had started at ground level and progressed steadily higher, and now the Tok'ra was sitting on Harry's shoulders, reaching her hands to twiddle with one of the triangular glyphs. "You should have woken us. Ilyna wasn't that tired."

"Yes she was, and there was no harm done. The Reol aren't going anywhere, and their spokesperson said that he'd be returning today, so that's okay," Harry answered, his arms up and hooked behind her back, to make sure she wouldn't lose her balance and fall. It was so useful, to be able to take the shape of such a big and muscular man – everything requiring physical labour was so _easy_. "You'll get your opportunity to shine your diplomacy when they do."

"I suppose," Cordesh answered and then sighed. "They are right about the Stargate in any case. It is completely out of power – and the crystals controlling the conductive energy the gate takes in are all burned. The gate was sabotaged, probably by Klorel's people, before they left this world."

"Nice of him," Harry mused, and got a kick to the chest for his easy tone.

"We are _stuck_ on this planet with no way out. You could sound a little more concerned," the Tok'ra said.

Harry snorted. After the things that happened to him – most memorably having been transformed into air molecules – pesky things like getting stuck on perfectly habitable worlds weren't that big of a deal. "There still might be a way out," he said. "There might be people here, with spaceships."

"I hardly doubt that. The Gate wouldn't be in middle of a forest if there were, and I suspect I would know about them if there was. No, this planet is a abandoned mining planet – there used to be a gold mine here, some thousand years or so ago, but it was depleted and since then this planet has seen next to no activity," Cordesh answered and then sighed. "Well I suppose there are worse places getting stuck. At least there is space to choose from, and I suppose with some word we build a dwelling, start a farm…" she didn't sound at all happy about it.

"Are all Tok'ra so pessimistic?" Harry asked, while reaching to take her by under her armpits, lifting her off his shoulders and to the ground. "Don't give up before you've tried all options – and there's a whole world full of unexplored space here, which might prove to offer us a way out. If Goa'uld mined here, then maybe they left behind some old ships. You never know."

Cordesh sighed again and just shook her head, before looking away from the gate. As she grew still, Harry looked as well, following her gaze to the cluster of near by trees where, there stood two Reol, half hidden in the bushes. "Ah, they've returned," Harry said, and then lifted his hand in greeting. "Hello there," he called.

"Greetings," the first Reol – which judging by the voice, was the same he had met in the night – answered.

"It is a honour to meet you, Reol of Re'emel," Cordesh said, bowing her head. "I am Cordesh of the Tok'ra. I am much relieved to find that the Goa'uld did not destroy the entirety of your population."

"Oh," the first Rewol said, sounding a little surprised, before hurriedly returning the bow. "I am Milaiesh, Enel of the Aemein," he answered in his broken Goa'uld, apparently remembering his manners. "And this Aneile," he added, motioning at the other Reol. "She the fourth Iine of Aemein."

"Oh. A very great honour, then," Cordesh said, bowing again, before glancing up at Harry. "Fourth Iine means that she was the fourth in line of succession to the Aemein highest seat of authority."

"You mean she's a princess?" Harry asked, and then bowed. "It's a pleasure."

The Reol seemed to relax a bit at this change of compliments, and dared to come few steps further into their presence, instead of lingering in the tree line. Aneile said something to the male Reol, who nodded and turned to Harry and Cordesh. "Aneile wishes know, you fix the gate?"

"No, we can't. There is no power, and the crystals controlling the conducted power flows of the gate have all been ruined. There is no way," Cordesh said regretfully. "But we haven't given up hope. This world is a old Goa'uld mining planet, there is still a chance that there might be a way out. Some technology left behind by the Goa'uld."

Harry smothered a snort. Now Cordesh was all optimism.

The two Reol exchanged looks before shaking their heads. "Unlikely," Milaiesh said. "We know world. Many travelled here in… study," he added. "All mines empty of technology. Nothing remain."

"I see," Cordesh answered and frowned, hesitating. She glanced up at Harry, part disappointment and defeat, part hope – possibly too used to having him carry her everywhere by now to be immune to the illogical expectation that he could fix everything. Though, in her defence, she didn't know much about Harry – only that he had saved her, and could take seemingly whatever shape he chose. For all she knew, he could fix everything.

Harry smiled faintly, and patted her hair. "I might have an idea," he admitted, as a lingering thought, remaining from his time as air, and as inanimate crate, tickled at the back of his head. He couldn't fix everything. But he really could take every shape he chose.

x

Harry left Cordesh to the Reol with very little explanation, not wanting to give them any more false hope than he already had, in case he failed. It startled the jittery Reol something fierce, when Harry had kissed Cordesh good bye and then turned into a falcon to dash off, but Harry was sure Cordesh could explain everything to them. He on other hand had more important things to do.

It took him good two hours and a change from a falcon to a vulture, to find a good spot. There was a hill not that far from the gate, which seemed high and empty enough for what he had in mind. Harry landed in awkward skips and hops onto the hill and changed from a vulture into his original shape, still naked as it had been the day he had been dropped toAbydos, but less a concern nowadays. It was only one shape among many, now, even if it was his original - and he would only hold it for a moment, if all worked out.

This would be his most difficult transformation yet, he mused as he sat down to meditate on it. Going to physical from the less than corporal form of air had been difficult, but only in the time it had taken for his to gather his molecules. This on other hand, took thinking, memory and concentration.

Thankfully he knew the anatomy of the shape he was trying to take – even better than he knew many others of his shapes. He knew the insides and outsides and the molecule structure of each and every layer – he knew the heart and the brain, even if neither had blood flowing in them, and he knew the abilities. But in this case knowing wasn't quite enough, because he had to also make himself believe that he could go from shape of a man, into the colossal form of a Ha'tak vessel.

Not an easy feat to manage. As it was, it took him better part of the day to manage to just imagine it, and when he finally felt the transformation come upon him, it was unlike any other he had felt so far. Usually they came easy, natural, borderline inconsequential in grand scheme of things. This time it was slow and halting, possibly because his own small doubts about his ability to actually become a ship as big as all the pyramids ofGizathrown together.

But regardless, the change came. He loss his arms and gained the defensive triangle that wrapped around the tetrahedron of the rest of his body. He lost muscles and gained engines and propellers. He lost skin and gained a hull – and a shield generators. His mind went into the ship's computer, and in a flash he _was_ the ship in body and mind, aware of each and every of his nearly thirty levels, two dozen corridors, seemingly endless amount of rooms and bays and niches. He had his eyes in the sensors and could see the engine room inside him, the bridge with the control consoles, the empty glider bays and the cargo hull. He could feel the pulsing Naquadah cores inside him, supplying him with all the power he needed to perform all the functions of a real and true Ha'tak vessel.

But Harry had known he would – all transformations were like that. The real test was whether he could _function_ as a Ha'tak and whether the transformation was sound. It wasn't like a inanimate object, even one with a computer for a brain, had any natural born instincts for him to inherit or pain sensitivity to tell him if something was wrong, though he did get a nice bunch of programming and security alarms that would be screaming if his hull integrity or some other vital part of him was compromised.

So, carefully, he started his engines, bringing the bridge online, every measure of power carefully monitored. He thrust up with the propulsion jets once they were online, and lifted up from where he had laid, slightly lopsided on the hilltop, barely staying upright. The gravity tore at his corners greedily, but his construction was sound, and he stayed solid and strong. That was just the beginning thought. The real difficulty would be whether he could leave a planet's atmosphere and gain orbit.

If he could, yay for him. If not, he probably died a horrible painful burning death.

But he had never been too worried about things like that, so, he lifted high enough to avoid damaging the greenery of the planet below, brought his shield's online and then started his bigger jets, those designed solely for entering and exiting atmosphere, all of them with enough power to fight gravity and sustain escape velocity in the thickest of atmospheres. And so, with the engines humming and the jets burning, Harry looked up and ahead, and made to lift.

He had never had such a thrilling feeling. Being any sort of bird from vulture to alien swallow didn't even begin to compare. The strain, the speed, the strength, it was unimaginable. He felt so huge, so powerful, so _efficient_. One thing you had to hand it to the Goa'uld, they really knew how to build a ship. There was a lot of useless stuff in Harry, corners in corridors which took more space than necessary, and that writing all over him, which in total took good half percent of total air capacity for no other reason than the aesthetic… still, as far as existence went, to be a Ha'tak was magnificent.

Harry let out a triumphant cry that echoed through his corridors, when the straining heat of atmospheric exit faded in the coolness of space, and he was free of the gravity. It had happened so fast, at such a high speed, and he felt none too worse for wear. There were no leaks in his hull, the integrity of which was still perfectly unharmed. His indoor atmosphere was sound, his ventilation and air filtration were fully operational, the artificial gravity felt like a stone in his stomach but not in a bad way, and his internal temperature held.

He had a valid life support.

Only one more test, and he could take the good news to Cordesh and the Reol.

Harry spent moment calculating, using every ounce his new form's calculative power to plot a brief course back and forward. It was incredible, to be able to calculate such things in what felt like his head, but the computer was uniquely build for such things so it really shouldn't have been a surprise. Still, he spent a micro second appreciating the efficiency, before concentrating.

With a hum, the hyper drive came online, and then a window of roaring, flickering purple and blue opened before him, like some ethereal cloud. All it took was smallest thrust, and he was first in, and then out of hyperspace, feeling giddy with the power even as he halted by the eight planet of the solar system, several millions of miles away from his point of origin. Unable to help himself, he revolved around himself out of sheer enjoyment, the triangular protective belt about him spinning, before becoming serious enough again to attempt a return trip.

By the time he had returned to the planet's surface, and into a organic form, Harry had already decided that to be a spaceship was possibly his new favourite thing about being a shape shifter – and that he wouldn't have minded being one for couple of hundred of years.

xx

I know it's utterly ridiculous, but I wrote this whole story because I wanted Harry to transform into a spaceship. I don't care if it seems stupid and impossible and throws suspend of disbelief out of window. I don't care. I want spaceship Harry, so I will make a spaceship Harry. That's how I roll.

Merry x-mas :D


	6. Chapter 6

Warnings; (ridiculously implausible and more than slightly overpowered)ShapeShifter!Harry and stuff. The year is currently 1998 in the story.

**Journeyman  
****6.**

It was a good thing that the ship Harry was most familiar with was a Ha'tak rather than a cargo ship of some sort, because the Reol survivors would've never fit onto a Goa'uld ship smaller than the one he could transform into. There were more than seventy of the survivors, and situation would've been mighty cramped on a smaller vessel.

Of course, even after the hour or so it had taken to explain to Cordesh and the others that they had a way out, that way being Harry, it took a little longer for them to actually get going. While Harry was a viable ship, he wasn't stocked as one – he only had the bones. It was up to those who would be living inside him to manage their day to day needs, such as food, and it took some time gather big enough stores to feed several dozen Reol, even if they ate like birds. Cordesh needed food too, though Harry would be sustained by his power core and, unless something happened, he would be for the next fifty or so years.

"I still can't believe you can manage such a change," Cordesh murmured, as they packed the gathered food in any way they could to be carried on board Harry, once he transformed again. Harry had cooling storages so keeping the food was no problem, but getting it where they wanted it to be was. "It does not seem possible by anything I would call a science."

"Then don't call it science and leave it at that," Harry answered calmly, testing the handles of a rough stretcher and nodding with satisfaction. It would hold, and was light enough for the Reol to carry. "Just be happy."

"I am, trust me, I am. But that doesn't make me any less confused," Cordesh said and gave him a sideways look. "And don't think I have not noticed that you have yet to tell me much anything about your self. All I know is that you lived among the Goa'uld without them knowing."

"Then you already know more than most. Where I come from doesn't really matter," Harry answered. It wasn't like it was likely that there were others like him. Maybe in couple of hundreds or thousands of years wizard would manage the ability the Ascended had given him, but it was far off. And Harry would probably be dead by then, unless he lived out the rest of his life as a ship, which could survive thousands of years at most.

The Reol took his ability to transform easier than Cordesh – which, considering their own abilities, wasn't that strange. They also told him that on home their world they had predators, that could take the form similar to that of Reol, which was how they hunted, so transformations weren't anything new to them. Even if they had never seen anyone or anything transform into a manufactured inanimate object.

"Not that ship is an inanimate," Harry murmured to himself, and smiled. He couldn't wait to become a Ha'tak again, and move at speed he doubted any living being could ever manage alone.

Eventually the packing was more or less done, though, and the trek to the hill where Harry could transform without squashing anyone or anything begun. The Reol were quick enough at walking, and with Harry carrying Cordesh the trip went by easy enough, but he couldn't help but notice that by the time they were done with the four hour walk, each and every Reol was exhausted.

"Apologies. Gravity here… stronger," Milaiesh, the only one among them who knew any Goa'uld, explained. "Much stronger."

"Oh yes, of course. The gravity of Re'emel is only quarter of what is the galactic norm," Cordesh remembered and looked up to Harry. "Do you think you can regulate the gravity on… well, you, when you transform?"

"I suppose I could, but I won't," Harry answered, looking at her. The Reol might delight in less than Earth's gravity, but it would probably be bad for Ilyna – and as things stood, Harry cared more about her, than of the Reol in total. "I know enough about the effects of gravity to know that in lack of it, muscles atrophy," he said, thinking back to his studies in ship engineering inMemphis. Gravity was always an issue, as too little ended up weakening the workers and soldiers. "I won't have Ilyna's health deteriorate."

"Surely the good of whole outweigh the good of one," Cordesh argued.

"Not when the one is a child," Harry answered, and looked at the Reol. "I'm sorry. If I can, I'll try to regulate the gravity differently in different sections, but I doubt it is possible."

"It is… alright. We can… manage," Milaiesh promised, and smiled the way Reol did, more with their eyes than anything else. "It good for us," he added. "I've never been so… strong. Good exercise."

Harry grinned. He couldn't really see it – none of the Reol looked anything but nearly starved to death – but he could take Milaiesh's word for it. "Let's stack the food a little lower. When I transform, I'll take most of the top of the hill, and we don't want what took so long to gather being squashed," he said, and they did.

Eventually, Harry transformed, delighting in the strength and sturdiness of his form, while his external sensors took in the shock, awe and fright on Cordesh's and the Reol's faces. Cordesh was the first to overcome it, and to hurry forward to find an entrance – which Harry opened for her. It was… not bad, to have people inside him, Harry decided as she stepped in, out of the view of the external sensors, and into the field of vision of the internal ones.

"Harry?" the Tok'ra asked. "Harry, can you…?"

Harry turned on the speakers. "I can," he answered, the word echoing throughout the ship before he managed to localise the sound, so that only few speakers sounded, and not every single one on board. "You can come in further – I've turned on the cooling units for the food, the quicker it is loaded inside, the longer it'll last."

Cordesh just stared for a moment, mouth hanging a little bit open, before steeling herself. "Right," she said, and headed out to beckon the Reol to come inside

Cordesh was about as familiar with the anatomy of a Ha'tak as Harry, and didn't need any directions about where to go and what to do – she could find the cooling units easy enough, and organised the stacking of the food efficiently and quickly. As the last of the Reol cautiously trickled inside, she was already assigning living quarters among the many, many rooms inside Harry, explaining what was where, sanitary rooms and such, before explaining little bit about Ha'taks in general, about where the bridge was, and where they didn't want to go unless they wanted to be showered by radiation from the shield generators or the hyperdrive engine.

"Harry should be able to hear you where ever you are," Cordesh then said. "So if you get lost, just call to him. He might not be able to understand, but he ought to be able to send others to get you. And, if possible, I might be able to enter a translation matrix to his system so that he can understand you, that ought to make things easier."

Once the Reol were as settled as possible, Cordesh led Milaiesh and Aneile to Harry's bridge. "If there is a safe place where you may go or something of the sort, this is the time to speak," Cordesh said, walking to the control console. "It was out intention of finding all the Reol survivors as we just could and help them all, but if you wish to go somewhere immediately, then we must arrange that –"

"Watch it!" Harry snapped, as she turned the console on, and made to plot a course. It felt a little like someone had stuck fingers into his brain and started reorganising thoughts. "I can plot a course better than you do, and faster, so stop messing with my mind," he added, and resolutely turned off the power of the control console.

"Oh," Cordesh said. "I thought …"

"I might be a ship but that doesn't mean I'm just a vessel and need a pilot to control me. I do have a mind still," Harry answered, and turned his attention to the Reol. "Aneile, Milaiesh? Do you have coordinates of a world you would like to go? Gate address will do, I can calculate the location of the star system in question by using the symbols."

The two Reol changed some words before nodding and Milaiesh looked up. "I do not know… Goa'uld for gate symbols," he apologised.

"That's okay, I can show them to you and you can point them out," Harry said, and turned on a screen, displaying the symbols there. Aneile was quick to point the sequence of symbols, which Harry set aside on the screen for further consideration. He let the calculations wash over the screen – just to show off to Cordesh that he could, thank you very much – before having the location in figures that could be used to compute the course.

"Alright, you can calculate," Cordesh said, sounding impressed despite herself. "Could you do that before, or is it the Ha'tak's computer speaking here?"

"The computer," Harry answered without bothering to be embarrassed his own personal lack of computing abilities. It didn't really matter, what the original him knew, when transformed him could manage it easy enough. "I have the course ready. It will take us couple of weeks to get there. Just say the word and I will take orbit and then enter the hyperspace."

"Do it now," Cordesh said. "No use in waiting." With that said, he turned to the Reol. "You have a colony on that world?"

"No, a way point - place to gather," Milaiesh explained. "Survivors go there, we intend. Once there… however many there are, we find new home."

"Alright," Cordesh agreed. "Let's hope there's many."

"Not too many, though. I can only carry ten thousand passengers at most," Harry answered. Any more and the life support would become seriously taxed.

Cordesh snorted. "Not too many indeed," she answered, and led the Reol away from the bridge, shaking her head.

x

Being a ship was a little exhilarating and little more boring once they got to hyperspace – and stayed there, days and days on end. Had Harry had no passengers to occupy himself with, he probably would've gotten bored enough to drop out of it to make things a little more interesting – but as it was, there were more than enough passengers, one of whom required a little more attention than most.

"But where is Harry?" Ilyna demanded, staring up at Harry's front screen with her arms folded. "I want to see _Harry_."

"Sweetheart, I _am_ Harry," the shape shifter tried to explain, speaking through the speakers. "I'm the ship around you, I'm the room you're in. You know I can change my shape."

"Well, change back. I want to hear you purr," Ilyna said, frowning now with all the imperiousness of a four year old girl. "And I want to hear it now."

"I can't sweetheart. If I change back now, it wouldn't be at all good for the Reol on board, or for you for that matter," Harry answered as patiently as he could. If he did change, it would probably end up killing everyone on board him, Reol and Tok'ra alike. "You will just have to wait, and if you're confused, listen to Cordesh, she can explain everything."

"But… but…" now her lower lip was quivering, and her eyes were growing large. Harry smothered an electronic groan – he had spoiled her, utterly spoiled her, by carrying her around the way he had. "I want to hear purring," she said, in quiet child's voice, the sort that was just the calm before the storm, whisper before a wail.

"If you want me to purr, sure, I'll purr, but don't be disappointed if it's not the same," Harry answered, and send out a thrum through the speakers, very much like a cat's purring, but obviously not the same thing. Ilyna hesitated, before folding her arms tighter and harrumphing, and then marching up to the control chair – or a throne, because that was what it looked like – of the bridge. She sat – climbed up and then sat – down, and stared at the screen with stubborn expression, little queen of her domain.

By heavens, but Harry was really starting to love the little girl.

Aside from her and Cordesh, there were the Reol to consider as well. Harry couldn't change his internal systems or circuitry to make it so that one part of ship had different gravity than others, Goa'uld vessels just weren't build to handle that sort of imbalances, but that was just the first of his and the Reol people's problems. Though their intake of food was similar to that of humans, even if lesser, their other bodily functions were a bit different. The most prominent one of those was, of course, the production of their hallucinogenic self defence chemical which, Harry found, started to build up a strain on his filters just few days in.

No wonder, though. Seventy Reol, most of the frightened out of their minds, all unleashing their fear through the urge to defend themselves, whether they liked to or not. How Cordesh and Ilyna were immune to it, Harry wasn't sure, but they seemed to be, though Harry was getting mechanic equivalent of a headache because of the excess of the substance.

"It is because she is young," Aneile explained, her and Harry's words passing through his brand new translation matrix so that even whilst Harry spoke Goa'uld and she the Reol language, they both understood each other perfectly. Cordesh was nothing if not good at reprogramming Goa'uld computers, as weird as it had felt. Very weird.

Aneile continued, "The chemical only affects the adult brain of the human species, we have observed."

"I thought it was having a symbiote," Harry mused through the speakers.

"No, the effect is same to Goa'uld as it is to humans. Cordesh is saved through Ilyna, though she must be fighting the effect as well," Aneile said thoughtfully. "We have not the chance to study the effects of our chemical in such cases. Ianala is making many notes of this; it will enrich studies later in our life, if we make it that far."

Harry hummed in agreement, absently recalling that Ianala was a Reol scientist with them, who had negotiated some modifications to the Goa'uld baths so that they were better for Reol to use – the Goa'uld added some minerals that were unpleasant to the Reol, and tended to have their baths in high temperatures, and Harry had been forced to moderate those a lot before the Reol found them suitable.

"Aneile, could you explain something to me? On the planet where we met, we followed some tracks of what we thought were of your kind, running away from the Goa'uld, or probably from theJaffa," Harry said slowly in thought. "The tracks trickled away to nothing and we thought that all the Reol had been either captured or… well. How come you're still around? Did you come later, after the battle?"

"No," the fourth Iine of Aemein said quietly. "No, I suspect the tracks you saw were those of my personal guard. They… sacrificed themselves in order to lead the Goa'uld away from the rest of us. It was their plan that after the Goa'uld caught them, they would believe that my guard were all that there was and would leave. And… they did."

"Oh," Harry answered, his sensors zooming into the slight quiver of her tendrils that were much like hair but not quite – Reol sign of agitation, he had found. "I'm sorry," he offered.

"It saved the rest of us, so I am grateful of their sacrifice, but… " Aneile sighed softly and then looked up, eyes big and dark and sad. "I am very grateful to you and Cordesh – and Ilyna as well. Without you the sacrifice of my guard would have been in vain."

"Happy to help," Harry assured her.

All in all, it wasn't a bad trip, though Ilyna tended to sulk thorough it, no matter how Harry purred. Harry had plenty of people to talk to and once the Reol relaxed a bit they had great many questions about his transformation ability, which Harry didn't mind answering. In a way he couldn't help but feel sympathetic of the Reol, and not just for their misfortunes. Their transformations might've been due to hallucinations of those who saw them, but regardless, they were the closest to people-like-him Harry had met so far.

But eventually the two week trip ended and they dropped out of hyperspace – or Harry did, and everyone else just came along the ride – and the world they were heading to filled good half of his exterior sensors, its enormous moon taking about one tenth on the other side.

"It got breathable atmosphere and the galactic norm as far as gravity goes, but it looks pretty barren," he noted, after Milaiesh and Aneile had came to the bridge with Cordesh.

"It seemed like unlikely place from where the Goa'uld would look for us. We can survive with very little water, and even without food, for a while," Aneile said. "Is there any way of telling if our people are down there?"

"Sorry. Goa'uld ships aren't that advanced," Harry said. "If there was a great big power generator down there, that I could sense, but not individual life signs. I can tell you right now though that there are no ships down there, or on orbit, as far as I can see anyway."

"Let's do a circle around the planet just to be sure," Cordesh suggested. "I know Ha'tak can't extend their sensors behind a planet."

"You caught me there," Harry agreed, and then pushed forth with his thrusters, to get a good motion going. One lovely thing about space was that once you got moving, you didn't really need to exert more force to it – in space, if you caught momentum, you kept it until you applied twice as much counter motion to stop yourself. Rather efficient as far as usage of power went, though more than little scary, if you were to run out of power before being able to stop.

Hyperspace was a different thing, though – but the lengths one crossed on hyperspace easily counteracted the usage of energy needed to keep moving in it. Harry's own thrusters would've never taken him even single percent as far as an hour or so in hyperspace could.

But this wasn't the time to marvel about the beauty of being a space ship. Harry concentrated his sensors down to the planet and to its orbit, as the momentum sent him flying and the planet's gravitational pull kept him on orbit. For a long while, there was no change, the planet remained as barren and lifeless as before – all the way up until he found the Stargate.

"I can sense little else down there, but there's that at least," Harry noted.

"That will be where our people are, or close by at any rate," Aneile said, sounding both satisfied and not just a little worried. "I believe there is little we can do from orbit. We must land."

"I agree," Cordesh said. "Harry, can you manage?"

"Easy enough. There's enough solid, flat ground near the gate," Harry answered, after scanning the area in closer detail for geography. "This shouldn't take long," he added, before sounding a warning thorough his corridors and rooms, to let the rest of the Reol know that they would be landing, and that they shouldn't panic. Then, after split second spent in calculating the proper entry angle, he applied his thrusters once more, and begun his descend.

x

It took the unloading of all Harry's passengers – as well as everything they had brought with them – and Harry's transformation back into the shape of the large man he mostly was around Cordesh, for the rest of the Reol to come out of hiding. Harry, now lacking the translation matrix and no idea what the Reol were saying, watched from the side as the skeletal bipeds talked amongst themselves, making odd hand gestures and touching palms in strange, greeting motions.

"There are more," Milaiesh, who had gotten some more practice to his Goa'uld with Harry and Cordesh, said as they watched. "This is just the guards – there are good thousand of us here. It is a mere fraction in comparison to the numbers of before, but… it is still a very happy day."

"I'm glad for you," Harry answered, lifting Cordesh – who was not so nonchalantly craning her neck in attempt to see – and settling the girl to his shoulders, from where she could see better. "Are there more of your people stranded, do you think?" Harry then asked.

"No. We were the last of those who escaped, it seems," Milaiesh sighed morosely. "There wasn't enough time. Most of our cities were bombarded from the orbit, as well as our settlements, few have dared to go back, and it seems that nothing… nothing remains of our world. The Goa'uld might still have our brethren captured, but it is unlikely. The chemical we produced can be used both in self destruction as well as self defence – it is unlikely they would've remained in captivity by choice."

"That explains why the Goa'uld haven't yet started to use your chemical in their business," Cordesh murmured. "I don't want to sound callous, but thank heavens for that."

"Yes. We have had enemies before, and the chemical was very sought after. We understand the lethal potential of it, and thus it is one of our most tightly guarded secret," Milaiesh said, but he didn't sound too proud of it. "Often times it is more trouble than it is worth, I think."

"Some things are, but I think there's plenty of good in it too," Harry answered. "As far as self defence mechanism's go, yours is painless, kind and smooth. It's better than most."

"Can the Goa'uld extract it through autopsy?" Cordesh asked after a moment. "They must have a lot of… well."

"I highly doubt that," Milaiesh said, smiling the way Reol did, sadly. "Our bodies deteriorate quite quickly, and the chemical is partially to blame. It is quick to dissipate – mere half an hour after death, the chemical will have already evaporated from our bodies."

Cordesh nodded, as did Harry. Looking over the Reol, he wondered if the Goa'uld could revive them with the sarcophagus, a healing device of the Goa'uld that could revive even the dead if used quickly enough… but he decided against it. Those were designed for human and Goa'uld physiques only. Reol might've had the same limb and head and sensory organ placements as humans, but that was where the similarities pretty much ended.

"What will you do now? Harry asked. "I can give you people a lift, though I think we would have to stop in some other place to get food for you guys."

"No, I doubt it will be necessary," the Reol spokesperson said, after listening to the other Reol for a moment. "We will use the Stargate – a suitable planet has already been located, and it has a Stargate. We should be safe there – those who have visited it do not think that the Goa'uld know of it," he added. "The gravity is little less than that of our world, and I understand it makes things difficult for Goa'uld,Jaffaand humans. They would find little of interest in such a world."

"If you tell me the address, I can tell you if they do or don't," Cordesh said. "The Tok'ra are aware of all the planets under Goa'uld domain and in their knowledge. If I don't know your world, neither do the Goa'uld."

Milaiesh hesitated before stepping to exchange words with Aneile, who glanced back and at the leader of the larger group of Reol. She said something to him, and then stepped back, and towards Harry and Cordesh.

"Cordesh of the Tok'ra and Ilyna and Harry the shape shifter. We owe you a debt of gratitude," she said, through Milaiesh's translation. "If you wish to come with us to our new world, you are welcome to. We have very little to offer at the moment, but what little we have is yours."

"Your offer is very kind," Cordesh said. "But my mission is not over, nor do I think it ever will be. No Tok'ra will rest until the dominion of the Goa'uld is broken, and thus I must continue on."

"I will have to decline too, though I thank you, fourth Iine of Aemein," Harry answered, lifting Cordesh down from his shoulders and to his arm instead, so that Aneile and Milaiesh didn't need to crane their necks to see her. "There's lot of the galaxy and the universe yet to see."

Aneile nodded, looking like she had been expecting it. "Still, we give you the address of our new world in faith that you will not give the information away. Should you ever need us, we will do whatever we can, in limitations of our capabilities and need of security, of course."

"Of course. Your first duty ought to be the safety of your people," Cordesh agreed. "Harry and I can manage. However, should I ever return to the other Tok'ra… would you be against me telling them? The Tok'ra are forever looking friends, and if nothing else, we can help you, if not vice versa. The Reol would greatly benefit some of Tok'ra technologies, I believe, especially those we use to hide and avoid the notice of the system lords."

Aneile hesitated before nodding. "I must trust in your judgement in that case," she said. "But I beg of you to only tell those who are absolutely trustworthy. I do not believe it is in my people to escape and survive from such an attack again." Someone behind her said something, and she straightened her bony shoulders. "It is time we start to organize our relocation. Cordesh of Tok'ra and of Ilyna and Harry the shape shifter, it has been a privilege to meet you both, and the Reol people will never forget."

"I will take all possible caution, I promise," Cordesh said. "It has been an honour and a pleasure to meet you, and to come to know the Reol. I will forever hold the memory dear."

"As will I," Harry said, bowing his head.

They watched from the side as the Reol packed their things, dialled the gate, and headed away, in pairs of two and three. It took couple of gate activations, as the time ran out the first time, but eventually all the Reol were through – the last of them being from the planet from where Harry and Cordesh had saved them from. They bowed their heads at them and made motions of fare well, before moving on. Milaiesh was the very last, saying his good byes verbally, and leaving them with the Symbols of their new world's gate address, written in both Reol and in Goa'uld.

"Farewell, my friends. May you find peace," he said.

"You too, Milaiesh, and your people. I wish peace for you all," Harry answered while Cordesh agreed with a smile, and then Milaiesh too went through the gate, and the pool of blue shimmered and broke, leaving the pair of them alone in the barren planet.

"Now what?" Harry asked after a long moment of silence, turning to look at Cordesh who was still sitting on his arm.

"I think I ought to check the communication I left to the other Tok'ra," she answered. "It has been more than long enough for answer to have been posted."

x

The answer had been posted, it turned out. It was a short and succinct message that Harry didn't even understand, but which Cordesh said meant that there would be further information in a different place.

"Probably they want a meeting in a safe, neutral location, but…" Cordesh sighed. "This has the smell of an ambush."

"Ambush?" Harry asked, lifting his eyebrows.

"Yes. I've been in enemy hands long enough for many things to occur. We know they had a Goa'uld spy in form of my old host, who probably used my name to get around, so they're twice as suspicious of me as they were. On top of that, the months I spent among the Goa'uld were long enough for them to put me under Za'tarc conditioning."

"A what conditioning?" the shape shifter blinked with confusion. "What does that mean?"

"It's essentially brainwashing – the Goa'uld have the means of brainwashing humans,Jaffaand other symbiotes to their cause. Za'tarc is worse than that, because the conditioned impulses are usually impossible to detect, and the conditioned person is always unaware of them – until something triggers them. There have been cases when Tok'ra have returned from captivity with such conditioning, and have assassinated our council members," Cordesh explained.

"And that leads you to think that your fellows might ambush you?" Harry asked.

"I am certain of it," Cordesh answered with a sigh. "They will have to make sure – for all they knew, I might be another implant of the Goa'uld, like Anker, using Cordesh's name," she added and shook her head. "So they will lay in wait, and when I go to retrieve the information, they will capture me for questioning. If I pass through it, they will allow me to join the Tok'ra, though most certainly under guard. If I don't, then they will remove me from Ilyna and kill me."

"Oh," Harry murmured, and crouched down beside her. "Maybe you shouldn't go then."

Cordesh smiled. "It's nice to know you care," she said, shifting closer and climbing to sit on Harry's knee. "As it is, it is likely that I will be urged to go through the ceremony of changing hosts," she added. "Ilyna is so very young. It is despicable to have such a young host – the youngest we can usually stomach tends to be at least the age of eight and nine, and even then only under the direst of circumstances. Ilyna is only four, much too young for such a burden."

Harry nodded, wrapping an arm around her and resting his chin on her hair. He didn't much like it either way. Ilyna was a delicate little thing, and Cordesh was the only reason why she wasn't haunted by nightmares of her captivity and torture every day. But in the same time, Ilyna was also very young. She knew Cordesh, and understood the reasons why and how the Tok'ra was there, but at times…

All in all, Harry would've preferred Cordesh and Ilyna to stay together. It seemed best for them both in a way. But he didn't know that much about what it felt like, to be a Tok'ra – from either end.

"What do you plan to do?" he asked.

"I must go. If I don't I will only make things worse," Cordesh said with a sigh. "Ilyna doesn't agree with me, but she understands my need. My only concern at the moment is what will happen to her, if I am forcibly removed from her. The Tok'ra is not a good place for a human child. They would no doubt leave her among some human population and… I don't much care for that either. I would wish she stay with you."

"Well, obviously she will," Harry answered, looking at her. "Did you think I would let you go alone to this ambush?"

"I don't want you to be captured as well, in case things go badly," she answered, frowning. "It is not your duty."

"My duty is to you two – I saved you, and I will make sure that you remain saved," Harry answered firmly. Not that he really saw is as a duty, but that was beside the point. It wasn't his habit to let friends walk into ambushes alone. "Besides, what are the chances that your little Tok'ra friends could hold me against my will? Honestly."

Cordesh smiled faintly at that, before turning and burying her face in Harry's chest. The next time she spoke, the distortion was gone from her voice, and it was Ilyna who spoke. "I love you, Harry," she sighed. "Purr for me?"

Harry did, holding her close and trying to not feel like his heart was about to explode out of his chest with warmth.

x

They went to the meeting place the next day, freshly washed and eaten and prepared to take down a world, metaphorically speaking. The planet where the message was waiting was a dry, rocky place, and Harry carried Cordesh in his arms the entire way to the hidden device, not wanting her to trip and break her leg or something, even if Cordesh probably could've healed that in a flash.

Flash was about all the warning they got, before they were already surrounded by several armed individuals in what looked like desert gear, all pointing their zat'nik'tels, Goa'uld version of hand guns, at them. Cordesh stiffened a little at Harry's arms, but relaxed again, which Harry took as a sign that these were the Tok'ra whom she was part of.

"Cordesh?" the elder male in lead asked in human tones, but he was looking at Harry. "We were under the impression that you were dead. Now, put the child down and your hands up."

"You are under a lot of impressions," Cordesh answered, making several of them blink. She narrowed her eyes at them, mainly at the elder man in front. "Your name, Tok'ra."

The man narrowed his eyes in return before bowing his head and letting the symbiote inside him into control. "I am Selmak," he said, in the distorted voice of the Goa'uld and the Tok'ra. "Many things have happened since of your capture, Cordesh, if that is indeed who you are. Explain why you are in such a young host, against the Tok'ra's principles."

"I had no choice," Cordesh answered. "When Firnan was taken from me, I was put into Ilyna, my current host, against my wishes. And, if I were to kill myself or leave her, Apophis would have tortured her to death as punishment. I could not leave."

"And yet leave you did. How did you escape?" another Tok'ra asked in human voice. "And who is your companion?" he added, looking at Harry.

"Harry, at your service," Harry answered with a nod, not entirely sure how he liked this situation, but fully willing let Cordesh handle it.

"Harry is the reason of my presence here. He… organised my escape," Cordesh said and grimaced slightly. "And for the most part he's the reason why I am still alive. Ilyna is… very young, too young for me to easily manage. Harry has been helping me there."

"Harry?" Selmak asked suspiciously. "That is an Tau'ri name."

"Is it?" Harry asked, lifting his eyebrows. The Tok'ra knew the Tau'ri? Interesting.

"…It seems we have much to discuss," Selmak said with suspicious look at Harry. "But first some security measures must be taken. Will you two come with us willingly, or must we stun you?"

Harry glanced at Cordesh who sighed. "Willingly," she said, and made an insistent motion at Harry, who bowed down to set her to her feet. When he held out his hand to her, though, she took it. "However," she said to the Tok'ra around them. "In the examinations, please take my host into consideration. Ilyna has gone through enough as it is, the Goa'uld weren't kind to her, and it has been all I can do to keep her from lapsing into catatonia over most of it."

That seemed to ease some of the Tok'ra a bit, and they relaxed slightly. "Do you have any weapons?" Selmak asked, mostly looking at Harry who was carrying all their gear.

"None, aside from my cooking knife, though you're welcome to check us," Harry said, holding his free hand up a bit in case they wanted to do a search.

"Hm. No, I believe you," the elder Tok'ra said, and then bowed his head, returning the control to the host. "My name is Jacob," he said with a grim sort of smile. "Come this way," he added and turned, the other Tok'ra around Harry and Cordesh still holding their weapons and stepping forward to urge them to move.

The examinations the Tok'ra performed to them happened in an odd, small crystalline cavern not far from the Stargate, to which they got via a Goa'uld ring transporters. First they were scanned with some hand devices that Harry had never seen before – maybe they were Tok'ra exclusive. Then one of them gave Harry what felt like partial physical, checking his neck, jaw, and shoulders, prodding and poking and, Harry realised after a moment, trying to find a symbiote. He seemed to have some troubles – the form Harry maintained to better care for Cordesh was fairly muscular, and that included Harry's neck, so the man didn't get as easy access to it, as he might've with a smaller, thinner man.

"No symbiote and no naquadah in his veins," the examiner pronounced. Then Harry was moved to another set of examination – which seemed a less like physical, and more like a lie detector test.

"Please direct your vision here," the examiner said, pointing at a red thing in a strange device, after Harry had been sat down into a chair little further away. "I will ask you some question, and I wish for you to answer in simple, short answers. Do you understand?"

"Yes, I do," Harry answered, and sighed. He had a bad feeling about this.

"What is your name?" the man asked, to which Harry gave his first name only. "What is your relationship with Cordesh?"

"Cordesh is a friend," Harry answered, frowning. Friend and a protégé, but he rather doubted Cordesh would've liked that distinction.

"What is your relationship with Cordesh's host, Ilyna?"

"Ilyna is…" Harry hesitated. She wasn't a friend and not quite a protégé either. She was more, much more. Harry swallowed and lifted his chin. "Ilyna has come to be like family to me."

The Tok'ra gave him a look, before turning to the device again. "What is your relationship with the Goa'uld?"

"How do you mean?" Harry asked back, frowning.

"Do you sympathise with the Goa'uld?"

"No, except for one, and I disagree with both her methods and philosophies," Harry answered honestly.

The Tok'ra frowned and gave him a sharper look. "Name this one."

"No," the shape shifter answered. "It's none of your business."

There was a moment of quiet before the Tok'ra continued. "Why do you sympathise with this one Goa'uld?"

"Because of her host was a dear companion of mine," Harry answered, and the Tok'ra seemed to relax again, even if only minutely. Harry though, wasn't all that into the whole examination thing anymore, so he folded his arms. "Could you please get to the point? Ask me if I would give you away, ask me if I'm a Za'tarc, ask me why I helped Cordesh escape. Let's just get this over with."

The Tok'ra gave him another look, but didn't take his suggestion, and instead meandered with small questions about his alliances and sympathies with this and that secret of the Goa'uld, before finally getting to how he had helped Cordesh escape and why. Harry answered as truthfully as he could without giving his abilities away, and by the end of the whole ordeal, the Tok'ra was frowning at him.

"You are not telling me everything," the man said after a while.

"Of course I'm not. Some things just are none of your business and you're starting to irritate me," Harry answered with a snort, looking down to the straps with which he had been attached to the chair. "Cordesh might've earned my trust, but I don't know you, so don't expect me to tell you all my secrets. Now would you please release me?" he probably could've done it himself, if not by other way, then by changing the thickness of his wrists and size of his hands, but he didn't want to alarm the Tok'ra – or give that particular ability away, just yet

The Tok'ra didn't, instead he headed out of the chamber and talked with the other Tok'ra, who were performing the same examination onto Cordesh, before returning with Selmak and Jacob – who, thankfully, freed Harry from the dratted chair. "You were spying on the Goa'uld atMemphis?" the man asked curiously. "How did you manage that?"

"Magician doesn't reveal his tricks," Harry answered, standing up and stretching. "Is Cordesh's examination finished yet?"

"Yes, you may see her, and probably best you do it quick," Jacob answered, and turned to lead Harry to the other chamber where he found not Cordesh, but Ilyna who was crying out, trying to fight herself out of the examination chair.

"Harry, Harry!" she called out to him, as she saw him. "They're going to hurt me, they're going to use the red lightning rods on me, help me, please help me!"

"Shush, sweetheart, you're okay," Harry answered, quickly crossing through and pushing one Tok'ra bodily aside to get to her, where he proceeded to rip the cursed bands off her wrists, neck and ankles. She launched herself at him, and he immediately begun purring comfortingly. "It's okay, it's okay," he murmured. "These are Cordesh's people remember? She must've told you about them."

"They feel like Goa'uld," she murmured into his shoulder, her arms wrapping around his neck as he lifted her up.

"They would, they're essentially the same species, you know, but they're alright. For the most part," he answered and pressed a kiss to her temple before turning to the Tok'ra. "Why did she come forth? Why did Cordesh let her?" he asked. Usually Cordesh took situations like these, which might cause the girl some alarm.

"We demanded it," one of the Tok'ra answered. "Cordesh argued against it, but eventually acquiesced, as it is not right for Tok'ra to suppress a host like that. We didn't expect her explosive reaction, however."

Harry shook his head, rubbing Ilyna's back and trying to calm her enough for her to be able to withdraw again and let Cordesh into control. "Well, you'll know better next time," he said, and turned to Jacob. "So, now what?"

"Now we head to the current Tok'ra hide out. The High Chancellor will wish to meet you both," the man said, patting Harry on the shoulder awkwardly. "However things came to be this way, I am happy to see the real Cordesh returned, even if in such a frail host. You have our gratitude for that."

"Right. Well, you're welcome, I suppose," Harry answered, still a bit uneasy but willing to give them the benefit of the doubt.

They left the small chambers via the ring transporters, and headed back towards the gate. Harry was carefully kept from seeing the address of the world they were going to, but he didn't take insult from that and instead walked through the gate when told to – and to yet another desert planet.

"How many of the worlds in this galaxy are deserts?" he asked with some exasperation, as he stepped away from the gate with the Tok'ra still a ring of armed guards around him.

"A lot. The earlier methods of mining the Goa'uld used left a lot of worlds barren and dead," Jacob answered, giving him a curious look. "Have you seen many worlds, Harry?"

"I've seen plenty, most of them being made mostly of sand and hot air it seems," the shape shifter answered, shaking his head. It did explain things, though, if it was because of the Goa'ulds. If there was ever a race that could turn entire worlds into nothing but planet wide deserts, then it was the Goa'uld.

Once all of them were through the gate, the Tok'ra begun to lead Harry and Cordesh away from it and into the desert. There they came about some precise spot where, like in the previous world, the rings of the Goa'uld transporters rouse from the sand, circling them and then taking them below the surface and to the Tok'ra tunnels.

Harry hadn't had much time to look at the smaller base of the previous planet – which had been little more than a hole in the ground, really – but this time he took a second to stare. Cordesh had told him a thing or two about the Tok'ra tunnel crystals, but to see such a complex was a different thing. Especially since it was so very… not like most of Goa'uld architecture and technology.

Where had the Tok'ra learned to grow tunnels with crystals, where had they gotten the method from? He would've very much liked to find out, just for curiosity's sake, but now wasn't the time.

"Come this way," Jacob said, after exchanging some words with some Tok'ra of the base. "High Chancellor Garshaw will see you now."

x

"So," Harry said Martouf, the Tok'ra who had been assigned as his guide/guard during his stay in the Tok'ra tunnels, while Cordesh went through lengthy discussions with the Tok'ra council. Though Harry had met and talked with the High Chancellor, it had been Cordesh they had been interested about, and so Harry had been ushered politely out. "How exactly do you feed yourself around here? I get the tunnel thing, which is pretty neat all in all, but I don't really understand where you'd get food? I mean, it is a desert planet…"

"Well, when the tunnels are laid down, we first scout a spot with a underground rivers or any sort of water ways," the Tok'ra male answered, hands clasped behind his back and peaceful expression about his face, despite the whole being a guard thing. "We can reroute those with the crystals – which work like a pluming, in a certain way. So, the underground water way becomes our source of water, it supplies water for fountains such as…" he motioned to the other side of the room where, now that Harry looked a little closer, there was a small fountain imbedded in a stone table of sort. He had thought it was glass or something.

"Okay, that's useful. What about food?" Harry asked, his mind mostly on Cordesh and the Council and whatever they were talking about. He hadn't put up a fuss when they had made him leave her, but he couldn't say he was too happy about it either. They probably wouldn't do anything to harm her, after all the examinations, but still…

"We grow it here, in the tunnels," Martouf said, and there was a hint of mingled pride and embarrassment and maybe little bit of dismay. "We cultivate certain types of gene manipulated mushrooms that can grow in the light of the crystals and provide all the nutrients, vitamins, minerals and such a human – and a Tok'ra – requires. It is quite efficient, if somewhat lacking in variety."

"Mushrooms. Lovely," Harry answered, trying not to look too sympathetic.

"Well, when there is time, some of do hunt a bit, if we are on a planet with wild life, but it is fairly rare," the Tok'ra admitted, with a small cough, and looked at him. "How long have you and Cordesh known each other?" he asked curiously.

"How long?" Harry mused, and counted back. How long had it been? It felt almost like forever to him, now – the nights of having Ilyna curled to his chest, demanding bedtime stories, and the mornings with Cordesh, planning the day ahead, had became natural part of life for him. But it hadn't been that long. "Month maybe, little less – though I knew about him couple days before we actually met."

"That's a long time, considering the fact that you did not meet with us until now," Martouf mused, giving him a look.

"I suppose we didn't want to hurry – and I think Cordesh wanted some time to relax after her and Ilyna's ordeal. Especially for Ilyna, the poor thing was in a bad shape in the beginning. Still is," Harry mused. He considered telling that Cordesh had also wanted to finish her mission, though Harry's own curiosity about the Reol had probably helped her there, but he decided against it. Cordesh was the one who knew which Tok'ra were trustworthy, after all, best leave that sort of revelations to her.

Harry shrugged – Cordesh was probably already telling the Council about the whole thing anyway, though he really hoped she would leave put his transformation abilities. Though if she didn't, he wouldn't mind that much – he had already figured couple of ways to escape, if it came to that, so he wasn't too worried. And all in all, the Tok'ra didn't seem like they would hold him down and dissect him, judging by the way they treated the whole Cordesh and way-too-young-Ilyna situation.

It took hours for the council to finish their interrogation of the long lost member, and by the time Cordesh was released to meet Harry, she was tired and droopy, and made no objection as Harry lifted her to his arms, took a comfortable position in a corner of the room where he could lean back against a wall, and settled them both down for some rest.

"How did it go?" Harry asked, while Martouf stepped outside.

"Well enough, though they disprove me quite heartily," Cordesh answered, leaning her cheek to his chest, the way Ilyna often did while he purred for her. Glancing down at her, Harry shifted his throat into different order, and let out a low thrum, making her smile. "They were a little warmed by my accounting of what happened with the Reol, but I am still what amounts to a paedophile in their eyes, even if they understand the reasons."

"Lovely," the shape shifter answered with a snort, and closed his eyes, leaning his head back. "Did you…" he trailed away, not sure how to voice it without giving it away, in case she hadn't.

"No. Some secrets aren't mine to tell," she answered, and titled her head so that Harry could feel her pointy little chin digging to his chest. He peeked one eye open, to find her staring at him. "You're not going to stay here, are you, Harry?"

Harry considered it. "For a while, maybe, but no… I don't suppose I would like it much here. It is interesting but…" he shrugged. He could believe in their cause, in their mission and beliefs but as much as he sympathised, they weren't his own. He liked Cordesh, and what little he knew of the Tok'ra… but still.

"We could use one like you, we really could," the Tok'ra mused. "You'd be the perfect spy. The perfect soldier. The perfect… well, anything you would put your mind to. And what you did for the Reol, I can't even begin to imagine how much use that could be for our cause."

"Yeah, I can imagine it," Harry agreed. He could, and he had seen it in Cordesh's eyes, heard in her voice, often enough. But he didn't want to lead a life like that, not anymore. He had been a soldier on the side of the freedom fighters once, and as honourable as it was, it wasn't _him_ anymore. He had gotten used to the autonomy of hiding, running, blending into the back ground and letting the flow of events take him as it and as he pleased. And he rather liked it.

"It's not me. I'm sorry, but I couldn't live like that," he said, shrugging his shoulders and reaching to press a kiss to Cordesh's forehead. "But I'm not in immediate hurry to leave. I wouldn't, without knowing what will ultimately become of you, and of Ilyna."

Cordesh nodded, and laid down her head again, sighing. "Harry," she started after a moment, sounding tired. "If they demand I take another host, would you take care of Ilyna for me? Take her with you."

"I will," he promised, settling down again. When he glanced down, it was Ilyna who was looking at him, and not Cordesh. "Hey, sweetheart," he said. "How are you doing?"

"I'm okay. Cordesh has been telling me about the Tok'ra and the tunnels," she said. "They're pretty. Cordesh wants to stay."

"What about you?" he asked gently.

She hummed, lying down her head. "I think… I like Cordesh," she said after a moment. "She tells me stories, and she has so many. And sometimes, she makes me see things she's seen, worlds and moons and super novas. I…" she frowned and sighed. "I like Cordesh."

"I'm sure she feels the same about you, sweetheart," Harry said with a smile.

"But I like you too," Ilyna added, like she hadn't heard him. "I don't want you to leave."

Harry sighed softly, wrapping one arm around her back and rubbing up and down gently, not sure what to say. He didn't want to leave her either, but in the same time he wasn't too sure about staying. And yet, he didn't want Cordesh to leave Ilyna, and Cordesh was a Tok'ra, and should stay…

"Let's give it some time, sweetheart," he then said. "I'm not going anywhere just yet, I promise."

"Okay," she yawned and then they were quite, the silence softly broken by Harry's continuous purring, and by the quiet humming of the Tok'ra tunnels around them.

x

Dumdidum.


	7. Chapter 7

Warnings; (ridiculously implausible and more than slightly overpowered)ShapeShifter!Harry and stuff. The year is currently 1998 in the story.

**7.**

Harry stayed among the Tok'ra for about couple of weeks – though it was difficult to tell the time, under ground in the ethereal light of the crystals. The first days were spent in captivity, for the most part, and lamenting the tasteless sludge of food the Tok'ra ate. The third he spent in some relief, when the Tok'ra Council, after spending some hours questioning Ilyna, decided that they would not separate her and Cordesh after all.

"I will most likely not be given missions or allowed much out of base for the next ten years or so, until Ilyna grows, but I think I can live with that," she admitted, after delivering Harry the good news.

And after that, Harry for the most part listened to the gossip of the Tok'ra, who gossiped just as badly as the Goa'uld, though differently. Unlike the Goa'uld of Memphis, the Tok'ra wished only well for each other, but the Goa'uld on other hand, well, they could spend some hours easily, toasting over Goa'uld defeats and misfortunes. One of those caught Harry by bit of surprise, when during one day he heard Martouf telling Cordesh about the defeat of Apophis.

"By Sokar?" she asked with disbelief.

"It seems unlikely, but true. Apophis's fleet was utterly decimated, with only him left. He escaped somehow, and even managed to send a message to the Tau'ri, begging for sanctuary," Martouf answered, shaking his head with amused disbelief. "The Tau'ri of course took him in and -"

"Wait, wait, wait," Harry said, stepping a little closer. "You know the Tau'ri?" he asked. Selmak and Jacob had mentioned the Tau'ri when they had met, he recalled, but he had forgotten about it during the examinations.

Martouf glanced at Cordesh who looked at Harry with surprise. The elder Tok'ra – physically speaking – shrugged his shoulder. "One among our number, Jolinar of Malkshur, took a host in their flag ship team, the SG1, under duress. She eventually died in her host, who retained some of Jolinar's memories – which is how the Tau'ri found us, some time ago," the explained. "That was, in fact, around the time when the Goa'uld spy Anker was discovered among us – it was one of the Tau'ri who brought him to our attention. We have been friends since."

"Okay," Harry answered slowly. What a prolific lot, though he wasn't entirely sure if he was talking of the human's of Earth, or of the Tok'ra.

"How do you know the Tau'ri, Harry?" Cordesh asked curiously.

"Jacob said that Harry was a Tau'ri name," Martouf remembered thoughtfully.

"It doesn't really matter," Harry answered. "Continue your tale, I want to hear what happened to Apophis."

"Well. Apophis sought sanctuary among the Tau'ri and was granted it. The Tau'ri are kind in that aspect, even showing mercy to their enemies, though not kind enough to offer Apophis a new host, of course," Martouf said, still looking at Harry thoughtfully. "Apophis was severely injured, tortured even, and at death's door, and eventually he begun aging rapidly. When his weakness proved fatal, the Tau'ri, who were under attack by Sokar who wished to have Apophis as his prisoner, delivered his body to Sokar."

"So, Apophis's empire is gone?" Harry asked slowly.

"For the most part, yes. Klorel is trying to hold onto the majority of it, but he has already lost great deal of territory to Heru'ur, and more to Sokar," Martouf answered. "He may be able to hold onto some of his father's territory, but it is unlikely."

Harry frowned and looked away, deep in thought. That would mean that Amunet would be in danger – either of assassination by other Goa'uld queens, or that she would have to ally herself with another system lord. Harry very much doubted she would – she, despite being a heartless Goa'uld, did love Apophis as far as he could tell. She would not bow to another system lord – and she would die before letting herself be captured. More than that, she would assure that Apophis's enemies would benefit as little as possible from Apophis's labours. She would see their weapons and technologies destroyed.

Harry bit his lip, stepping back a bit. If there was ever a time to capture Sha're from Amunet, this would be it – but in the same time, she would be pretty much like defeated animal driven to a corner, and would fight to death if it came to it. Not to mention that she would be hiding, avoiding anyone who would try to capture her. She wouldn't be easy to find.

"Harry?" Cordesh asked, bringing him out of his thoughts.

"Sorry. I know someone among Apophis' ranks, a host to a Goa'uld. I couldn't help but wonder if she'd be a little easier to free, or if she's beyond help, now," the shape shifter murmured, and shook his head.

The thought wouldn't leave him alone, though, and for the following days, even as he learned more about the ways of the Tok'ra, he kept thinking about Sha're. He hadn't had much time to, in the last weeks, with Ilyna to take care of and to worry after, but that had eased with the knowledge that Cordesh wouldn't be ripped out of the girl, and he was freed to worry about other things.

"I wonder. Have you given any thought on taking a Tok'ra symbiotic yourself?" Martouf asked one day, while Cordesh was away, advising the council about the way they should contact the Reol, and what they should be careful off. "You are sympathetic about our cause, and do not seem adverse to the concept of Tok'ra bonding."

"Nah," Harry answered easily and smiled at the man's slightly hurt look at his quick, nonchalant answer. "I'm not quite normal as humans go. I'm not entirely sure a Tok'ra would… survive in me," he explained. One quick shape shift and the Tok'ra inside him would be squished out of existence, probably. If not, then it would still probably be a highly uncomfortable experience, and best not risked. "I understand that there is shortage of hosts, though, and I sympathise with that, but I'm probably as unsuitable as one can get."

"I see," Martouf answered, with a glance, before sighing. "We have currently three Tok'ra without hosts," he then said, looking away. "Two are contained in stasis jars, and the third's host is approaching such an advanced age that finding a host for him is critically important."

Harry nodded. Tok'ra hosts didn't live as long as Goa'uld hosts did, because Tok'ra didn't use the sarcophagus technology, so they needed new hosts more often than Goa'uld did. "How long do symbiotes live naturally, given that they have a host?" he asked curiously.

"Quite long," Martouf answered. "We do not know exactly how long – several thousands of years – but so many of us have been lost when their hosts have, so… it is quite hard to say."

"Well, I hope you won't loose anymore and will find suitable hosts for those without," Harry said. "I'm sorry I'm not good for one." He trailed away thoughtfully, thinking about the Tau'ri. Jacob Carter, Selmak's host, was an Earth human who had been suffering cancer when he had been offered the chance of becoming a host. How many humans in Earth were in the some positions? Either that, or they were injured, or otherwise mortally ill, or something of the sort. Why hadn't the Tau'ri, if they were such friends to the Tok'ra, considered that beyond Jacob's case?

Well, it wasn't his business, the way the Tau'ri ran their Stargate operations and off world alliances was up to them. It had very little to do with him – though he did hope that they wouldn't draw any more Goa'uld to attack his home planet, even if he wouldn't return there anymore.

Harry paused with some confusion. _Wouldn't_ return, rather than _couldn't_? Where had that came from?

About six days into his life with the Tok'ra, just little after Harry's talk with Martouf about the lack of hosts, the Tau'ri did just what Harry had been wondering about Jacob and Selmak brought a boy of some ten years of age. He was bald headed, pale and by the looks of him, both terminally ill and terribly scared.

While Harry stood back, watching, Jacob exchanged some words with Cordesh, who after a moment of thought, bowed her head and let Ilyna in control. To Harry's pride and astonishment, she walked up to the bald headed boy, took his hand, and introduced herself as "Ilyna, the host of Cordesh," before telling the boy that she had so much to tell him about what it was like, to be a Tok'ra.

Then, like the little princess she was, she marched herself – and the bald boy – up to Harry, climbing to his lap and pointing the boy to sit down, so that she could begin her very important tale. "This is Harry, he is the greatest person ever," she added, somewhat distractedly. "He can purr. Purr Harry," she then demanded.

"Once upon a time I had more purpose in life than just purring for your delight," he answered with a soft laugh, but did as ordered, and while the bald boy - Charlie – eyed the both of them in astonishment, Ilyna begun to tell her in the perfect honesty and frankness of a four year old about the life of a Tok'ra.

"My mother made me too quickly," Charlie explained, when Harry carefully asked him why he wanted to become a Tok'ra. "Doctor Fraiser of the Tau'ri says that my internal organs are failing, because I was grown too quickly. Jacob told Jack that Tok'ra could help, and Jack told me that I should go with them, so that I could survive and grow up." He looked away, frowning a little. "I'm not sure if I want to become a Tok'ra, I wanted to stay with the Tau'ri, with Jack… but I don't want to die either."

"I'm sure you can visit him later on," Harry said gently, patting the boy's shoulder. "The Tok'ra and the Tau'ri are good friends, these days."

"But what if the Tok'ra won't let me see Jack?" Charlie asked anxiously. "They are like Goa'uld, aren't they? What if I will never be able to do anything again?"

"Oh, you stop that right now," Ilyna said, scowling at him. "The Tok'ra are nothing like the Goa'uld – the Tok'ra are nice. Cordesh is of course the most awesome Tok'ra ever, but I'm sure yours will be nice too, and help you and make sure you're happy. And Tok'ra would never keep host from doing what they wanted. It's not their way," she said the last bit with certain sort of pride, that made Harry turn his face away, to hide his amused smile.

Ilyna turned out to find her element in caring for Charlie and destroying all the boy's worries – she even, after figuring out which Tok'ra would be the one to bond with Charlie, took him to meet the one. It was thankfully the one still within a host rather than one of the two in a canopic stasis jars, so Charlie, the Tok'ra Arushal and Arushal's host Kemnel could talk for a little while. But Charlie's situation was urgent, and there was little time – the boy's organs were failing too quickly.

"You must blend today," Jacob said to the boy, crouching by him. "I'm sorry, I wish we could give you more time, but if we delay then Arushal might have too hard a time healing you. The sooner you do this, the better. Do you understand?"

"Yes, I do," the boy said, and looked first down to Ilyna and then up to Harry. "Will you… will you be with me?" he asked worriedly.

"Of course," Ilyna said firmly – and they were. It was certainly an experience, to see a Tok'ra changing host – which happened through a kiss, though how romantic it was Harry couldn't quite say. Not much, really, considering that it marked the death of Arushal's host, and the very first thing Charlie would do as a Tok'ra, would be to mourn Kemnel.

"He will be _fine_," Ilyna pronounced later with all the certainty of her handful of years, after Harry had laid Charlie down in the cot in the boy's new rooms. "I will look after him" she added determinately, and Harry was so proud of her that he let out a soft purr, without needing to be asked.

Charlie made it easier for Harry to eventually take his leave, though he wasn't sure how guilty he ought to feel about it. The guilt of leaving Sha're and the urge to find her and help her was getting worse each day. Cordesh and Ilyna on other hand didn't need him anymore. The Tok'ra was in her element, and the girl was happier than Harry had ever seen her, now that she had another there closer to her age to relate to. She was in good hands – several good hands – and she had Cordesh to look after her too.

Still, she could guilt trip a man like a champion, and only force of will and badly bitten cheek made Harry manage to suppress his tears, when she turned her betrayed big eyes up at him, her lip quivering and tears pooling. "B-but I thought you loved me?" she whimpered and Harry very nearly broke.

"I will come visit," he promised. "As often as I ever may. But I'm not one of the Tok'ra. I'm… different. And you know I like flying very much, sweetheart."

"But you can fly above the tunnels, on the planet surface," she argued, bit with a dismayed air, tears already trickling down.

"Not that well," Harry answered and held her tight. "You will be well here, the Tok'ra will take care of you. And you have Charlie too, you need to be strong for hi, don't you? I will miss you sweetheart, every step of the way, but…"

How did you explain duty to a four year old? Even if she was a Tok'ra, any way he put it, it sounded like abandonment. And on top of that, he was starting to suspect that he had developed a bit of a wanderlust by now, and that played it's part in his urge to go.

In the end, even if he had managed a better explanation of justification, he doubted she would've wailed any less. She only calmed down when she turned off to sulk and left the control to Cordesh, who sighed and apologised, but with just about as much tearful shimmer in her eyes, as Ilyna.

"Oh, god. You two would be the death of me, if I stayed to see you to puberty and dating age. I would never get a moment's rest," he groaned, hugged her tight and, after a rough purr, made his escape – pretty sure that Cordesh was more amused now than dismayed, even if no less sad.

He vowed to himself as well as to his girls that he would visit, as often as he could… but who knew how soon that would be.

He had a Goa'uld queen to find, and that, he suspected, would take a while.

x

Harry was more than a little grateful of the things he had learned from Cordesh, when he tried to hunt Amunet down. The many trading worlds and neutral – more or less anyway – Jaffa worlds were the easiest, safest place to gather information, without having to resort to changing shapes.

He still changed his shape, though, from the big human man he had been for Cordesh and Illyna, to slightly more slender Jaffa, with Apophis' serpent symbol tattooed to his forehead as black. When asked, he introduced himself as a Shol'va, traitor, and didn't give himself another name. Some worlds, especially trading worlds, welcomed him with open arms after, others threw him bodily out. It was very interesting experience, all around.

But, as much as he asked and questioned and spied, he couldn't find any traces of Amunet. She had, for all intents and purposes, vanished as soon as Apophis had fallen to Sokar's hands – fact which initiated many rounds of toasts in just about every pub Harry visited. At first Harry suspected that no one told him anything because they thought that, as a Shol'va, he was looking to kill the queen Tok'ra for some pass pain she had inflicted upon him – but there were many people who would've loved to give him information just for that, so it wasn't that people didn't speak. They honestly didn't know.

"I suppose that after Apophis got taken, Amunet figured that she wasn't in too high a position anymore, and hid," one trader mused, while trying to sell Harry a busted up power core of a cargo ship that no one even made anymore. "It's what I would do. Now, are you sure I couldn't interest you in…"

Harry slid away, mostly to think and to contemplate. It had been several months now, since he had left Amunet behind – he had spent a lot of time as air, then in Memphis, then with Cordesh… who knew what had happened since, especially with Apophis gone, more or less. There was probably no way to track Amunet down. What he needed to do, was find where she would go.

Which was all good and dandy, except he had no idea. Maybe she was with Klorel? Unlikely, considering her opinion of him, and Klorel's misgivings, she wouldn't put herself to that sort of danger. If anything, she was probably as far away from Klorel as possible, not wanting to get caught in his fights and defeats. But where would she be, where would she go? What could drive her now, if she wasn't looking to hold onto Apophis's territories and armies? And by the sound of it she wasn't even interested trying to keep Apophis's enemies away from the technological advancements Apophis's army had enjoyed. What was there left?

Harry thought hard, and then realised so quickly and so suddenly, that he nearly jumped to his feet from the barrel he had been sitting on. He was an _idiot_. She would go after the child, of course! The human child of hers and Apophis's, who the Tau'ri had hid among the Abydonians. She would've had to be an idiot not to know the child was there – she had seen the SG1 hiding in the Abydonian pyramid, when she had joined Apophis. She had known and not said a thing, probably figuring that it was just as well, and for as long as Apophis was in control, the kid would be just as safe and well kept in Abydos as he was anywhere else.

Now though, now Apophis had fallen and the kid wasn't safe anymore. And more than that, he probably wasn't just a normal kid either. There had to be a reason why Apophis would prefer his new host to be the child of two Goa'uld hosts, rather than any old human from anywhere – there had to be something special about the kid. And if there was, and Harry was pretty sure there was… then Amunet would, sooner or later, go to him.

And Harry would be there waiting.

With that decided, Harry headed to the Stargate, figuring that he better just get there sooner, rather than later. He got there quickly enough, and after lining for a moment while some traders made their way through, he dialled the Abydos gate, before walking towards the blue shimmer of the Stargate's wormhole – shifting shapes from the Jaffa man to a long limbed Abydonian cat just as he was one step away from the surface, and walking thought with his tail held up high.

He was greeted by the barrels of what looked like Earth automatic rifles, held by some of the Abydonian men. They relaxed a bit, as Harry sat down and gate's surface broke up behind him without admitting anyone else, but there was some suspicious looks directed at Harry's way, before one of the men stepped closer to examine him.

"Strange," they remarked, and returned to their stations, leaving him there. After a moment Harry figured that it was safe, and walked down from the gate's pedestal, and through the pyramid and out to the Abydonian sun.

He had somehow forgotten how hot it was. And the sand, he thought with a sigh. He hadn't recalled just how much there was off the stuff, in Abydos. Someone really ought to introduce glass blowing to the Abydonian people – they'd make a fortune, maybe. Well, probably not, Abydos's probably wasn't fitting for that sort of thing, who knew.

Stretching, Harry glanced behind him to make sure that the men guarding the gate weren't looking, and then stepped down the first steps of the long staircase leading down from the pyramid, and changing shapes from a cat to a falcon in middle of the third step down. He had no intention of walking the half a mile way to the actual village, flying was much faster, and so he flew over the dynes and to the familiar tent village of Abydos where Kasuf lived - and where Harry had met Sha're.

He landed to one tent pole and looked down, before dropping into a small niche between tents, and changing shapes again. It felt very familiar now, the whole thing – the smell of the oiled fabric, of camels and other Abydonian animals, of the people and their spicy foods… and as he stepped out of the shadows of the tents, in shape of a feline once more, he almost felt like home. Almost.

Now, he thought. Time to find Sha're's son.

It was in the end easy enough. He found Kasuf and followed him for some hours, until the old Abydonian stopped by to see one of the middle aged women of the village, and the boy she seemed to be nursing. "How is he doing today?" Kasuf asked without preamble, while Harry lingered in the shadows of the tent, watching.

"He is well, elder," the woman answered, running a hand over the boy's head gently. He has also grown, Harry mused, peering up carefully. Had it only been some four months? It seemed like much more – the boy looked… older. "He is strong," the woman added. "And eats aplenty."

Kasuf nodded, without saying anything, and for a long moment he just looked at the boy with mixed expression. "Tell me if you need anything," he then said, sounding a little uneasy and stiff. "Anything you require, I will acquire for you."

"Yes, elder, you have said so before," the woman sighed, looking up to the old man. "If you wish to see your grandson, you should come with that intention only. You do not need to veil it in this ridiculous show of security – I know you will do all in your power to offer the best of care to him and myself, while I care for him."

The old man sighed, and sat down. "I apologise," he said. "But it is hard. I cannot quite love that child, given his heritage. But I must care for him and so I…"

"I understand," the woman said, and smiled. "Would you like to hold him?"

Kasuf did not only not want to hold the boy, but the question nearly sent him fleeing – though he took a moment to say polite farewells before dashing off. The woman was left behind shaking her head with sad amusement, before she turned to care for Sha're's son again. "Silly grandfather you have," she said, before carrying the boy to a cradle to sleep.

Harry didn't take residence in the woman's – Airif's – tent because the one time he tried, she chased him out with a broom. Instead he spent most of his time playing sentinel just outside, listening to the small sounds the nameless child made, and to the woman's humming, singing and working inside, while she cared for the boy or worked on a loom, making some linens. Airif seemed like strong natured no-nonsense type of woman, though, so Harry wasn't too miffed about not being able to get closer to the kid.

He was a little more miffed, when days stretched on. Of course, there was plenty to see in the tent village – since he had left, they had apparently started trading off world as well as within their own society, and there was a whole lot of colour there. The metal working they had been planning and building when Harry had been there last had also taken flight, and a number of Abydonian males were now making their mark in metal working, in building naquadah tools and some jewellery - their new best customers being a group of rebel Jaffa, who taken up swords to augment their use of the staff weapons. There were also some refugees from other worlds, now living among the Abydonians.

But still. Days passed by and there was no sign of neither Sha're nor Amunet. Harry entertained himself by listening to the rumours coming off world, but it was barely a good way to pass time, when he could be doing something more… substantial. Maybe he should've stayed on the road, hunting rumours – at least then he would've had the chance of running into Amunet…

No. He had been trying that for long enough with little luck – Amunet wouldn't be found that way, she was too good. The possibility that she would come to find her son was the only way. So, Harry bit his tongue, settled down, and fought the urge to take off again, and the unease of sitting still and doing seemingly nothing.

"Well now," a feline voice purred at him, while he sat by Airif's tent, listening to the boy sleepy breathing. "What do we have where? I don't think I've seen you before…"

Harry looked down, the smell of a female cat in season tickling at his nose sweetly, and then froze slightly. It was the mother cat – the one whose kitten he had impersonated. "Yes, um," he answered a little awkwardly, backing away on the basket he was sitting on and curling a little tighter to himself. The smell, now that he had noticed, was making his blood pound a bit, but he fought it back. Because that would be… yeah, no, absolutely not.

"Hm. A quiet one, are you? Cat got your tongue?" the mother cat purred teasingly, rubbing languidly against the basket. "Perhaps you ought to come with me. I can make you sing sweetly."

"I'd rather not, thank you very much," Harry answered uneasily. No way was he… hell, he hadn't even as a _human_, he had no intention to do something like that as a cat. And if he did, and if a litter was the result, what would the kittens be like? Best case scenario, they'd be normal. Worst case scenario… well, there was a _lot_ of those. "I'm sure that there are plenty of others who would oblige you, happily enough," he said a little desperately. "You should… you should look into one of those."

"Oh, but I know all of them, and don't much care of them," the mother cat purred, and jumped up the basket, and to his side. Harry shifted back a little, as she rubbed her head against his. "Come on," she moaned. "We would have so much fun together."

"No, I don't think so," Harry said, enduring the rubbing only for a second longer, before quickly jumping up, clawing his way up the tent where, safely out of eye sight, he quickly ran through his forms to transform into something safe. Not Falcon, because the Abydos cats were big enough to catch one unless it was flying. A vulture.

The mother cat followed him, stopping as she saw the large bird Harry had became and scowling. "Mrow," she said, her language unintelligible now, and with a flick of her tail she headed back down again, disappointed but for the all the world to see not caring one jot. Harry the vulture sighed with relief, both to have her and her smell out of his senses, and to have his blood returning to normal speeds. Then, figuring that the village people wouldn't like having vultures around too much, he shifted into falcon's shape and sat by the tent pole. He didn't have as good hearing now, as a cat did, but even better eyesight, so he figured he might as well keep his watch this way, with a safe barrier between him and the mating season of the Abydos' cats.

That was when he saw the Al'kesh, coming to land.

x

The Abydonian village was defeated before the fighting really even started. The few Tau'ri weapons and recently made swords they had were no match for the Goa'uld weapons, and when the Jaffa demanded the surrender of the Abydonians and the refugees among them, they had little choice than to do it.

Harry, knowing that he couldn't do anything that wouldn't lead into people being killed, waited. He supposed he could've turned into a Ha'tak and fought against the jaffa but… well. Ha'tak was mainly a orbital bomber, not mid range fighter. Using that form against some fifty Jaffa on foot was like using a chainsaw against termites – no matter how careful he would be, he would probably end up destroying more of the surrounding, than the intended targets.

And besides, considering that the Jaffa were all from the Serpent Guard… that would've defeated his purpose. So he waited, and watched, following the Jaffa on silent wings when Airif and the boy were captured along with the rest of the Abydonians, and when field cages were quickly erected to hold the Abydonians. That was when Amunet finally came out, first to inspect all the infants of the village before stopping by Airif and the boy and smiling in satisfaction, eyes glowing.

"This one," she said, and a Jaffa girl beside her quickly moved forward, taking the boy from resisting Airif. While the Jaffa girl gave the boy a quick check up, Amunet led her away from the prisoners – and above them, Harry followed, setting down on top a near pole, to listen.

"He is healthy and strong, my Queen," the Jaffa said, bundling the boy up in the blankets again. "These humans have taken good care of him."

"I knew they would," Amunet said and looked at the Jaffa. "Memesh, you know what I ask of you," she then said. "It will be dangerous – you will be chased, you might die, and even if you don't, that entity that controls Kheb might not permit you to stay." She spoke the word, Kheb, like it was the lowest bit of hell – something to be hated and feared at the same time. Ad considering how Goa'uld shouldn't fear much…

Though on other hand, she feared the potential of humans of the Tau'ri too. Harry settled his wings more comfortably and looked down thoughtfully. Sometimes Amunet seemed almost… Tok'ra like, in the way she acted.

"I understand, my lady," the Jaffa girl said softly, bowing her head. "It is a risk I am willing to take. Your child should be safe."

"Yes, he should," the queen agreed, and glanced towards the cages with a mixed expression. "My lord is captured, and Sokar has twisted him to his own will. I will not have the abomination who was my lord gain the fruits of my love. This child shall be no-one's, no Goa'uld shall have him, and gain his knowledge. The entity of Kheb will make sure of that." She shook her head, and turned. "Come. We must go to the gate. Jaffa, come with me!"

As Amunet, the Jaffa girl and good five Jaffa soldiers turned to head towards the pyramid with the Stargate, Harry hesitated. Instead of following them immediately, he flew back instead, and to the cages, circling around the Jaffa in guard, and to the back of the cages. There, while the wide eyed and terrified Abydonians watched, he changed shapes from Falcon into a man, and eyed the cages for a moment. They were sturdily enough made, and tightly locked, but Harry had seen enough Goa'uld technology to be able to get around that.

"Shh," he said to the staring Abydonians and then looked down. He had never attempted partial transformation which hadn't came to him by instinct or reflex, but thankfully it worked better than he could've hoped. Under his concentrated stare, his blood pulsed and his hand shifted – and a Goa'uld hand device seemed to grow out of his hand to cover it, gleaming gold and red in the sunlight.

Satisfied Harry flexed his hand, a bit amused to find sense of sensation in the tips of the golden finger-covers, but this wasn't the time. So, instead, he concentrated once more, and turned the device at the cage. The impulse weapon in it could be used in many ways, and Harry had control over this one in ways no Goa'uld could've managed – his hand device was, after all, part of his very being. And so, when he used the destructive energy of the hand device onto the material binding the sections of the cages together, the device worked beautifully – even if with more noise than he would've liked.

"On other hand, make some noise," Harry said to the Abydonians, who were staring at him in silent, wide eyed wonder and horror. "I don't have much time, and I don't want to get caught. Noise, now."

While the Abydonians started to beg their release loudly, Harry blasted a section of the cage open, one binding after another, until one entire wall of the cage was held up only by the way it leaned to the others. "I'd suggest against mass escape, instead shift the wall a bit, have couple of you run and inform the Tau'ri," Harry said. "They ought to have the firepower to release your world."

"What about you?" Kasuf, who had pushed forward, asked. "Who are you? Can't you help us?"

"There's only so many places I can be at once, and I can't let Amunet escape," Harry answered. "I'm sorry," he added, before turning and retaking the falcon shape, to quickly chase after the Goa'uld queen.

If there was ever a time he could take her, it would be when she'd be alone with only so few Jaffa. But… something held him back from changing shapes and attacking her the moment he saw her group, crossing the dunes. Something she had said. And so, instead he followed them quietly, not letting his shadow fall on any of them, until they reached the pyramid and the gate, where he turned into a smaller swallow instead, to see where the child would be sent, in case he would want to go find him later.

Then, the opportunity he had had before seemed to explode into a miracle. Amunet send not only the girl, but the Jaffa as well through the gate – which left her perfectly alone in the gate room, with no one but Harry near. And, with her staring at the gate with a thoughtful expression with no notion to defend herself, sneaking up behind her and taking the form of the big man Harry had been for Cordesh was _ridiculously_ easy.

"Hello, my queen," Harry said, snatching her right hand and pinning it behind her back while wrapping the other around her waist. She snarled in surprise and fury and made to turn her left hand – the one with the golden hand device – to him, but Harry managed to snatch a hold of her wrist. "Now, none of that."

"How dare you! You will be punished for your insolence!" she snarled at him, kicking, but unable to fight. Even with Goa'uld's strength, she could do more than flail in his hold – Harry had made that his so called strong-man body well, and keeping a Goa'uld's and a Jaffa's physical strength well in mind.

"I don't think so," Harry answered a little sadly, shifting and bringing her hands behind her back where he could hold them with one hand. "I wish there was a gentler way to go about this, but I doubt I would get another such an easy chance. So, I'm afraid, this will have to –" He broke off and gasped as Amunet, with her hands taken out of the equation, did the only thing she could and slammed her head backwards. Harry, who had to bend a little to keep a hold of her hands, didn't have the chance to avoid it - and so, with a sickening crack, his nose was broken by the back of Sha're's head.

"Ha," Amunet said at him, but Harry held onto her hands despite the stars whirling in his eyes, and didn't release her despite her struggles. "I hope you bleed to death, human," she snapped.

Harry wiped a hand across the bottom of his throbbing nose. It came back covered with blood. "You know, I think this is the first time I've been injured in about a year," he noted somewhat nasally and would've snorted had he been able to. "Congrats for that, but it won't help you," he added and then, ignoring his nose the best as he could while dragging her backwards and to the dialling device, and quickly dialling the current Tok'ra hideout.

He hesitated only for long enough for Amunet to say, "I will have you die a most painful death for this. You will face your demise screaming in agony!" The words killed all of Harry's thoughts of how like Tok'ra she could be right there and there, and with them went his hesitations. He only took a moment to stop Amunet of all of her technology – some of which could be used to track her – before stepping towards the gate. As he pushed her through it, he felt only a little guilty about leaving the Abydonians in the hand of Amunet's Jaffa, but it couldn't be helped. Their salvation was up to them, now.

x

The Tok'ra received him and furious Amunet with some astonishment, when Harry ringed down to their Tunnels. Though Amunet kept nearly spitting her fury at Harry and the Tok'ra, she seemed to deflate a really as the Tok'ra took possession of her, with every intention to perform the ceremony of removing the Goa'uld from her unwilling host. She was still no where near meek when she was led away by her new armed guard, but she went without too much a fight.

"What in the name of the galaxy happened you your nose?" Cordesh asked, when she saw him after Amunet had been taken away.

"Amunet. Don't let the mass of hair fool you, she has a hard head," he answered, trying to staunch the blood flow with a wad of cloth. He could've changed shapes, or just the shape of his nose if nothing else, but he still had yet to tell the majority of the Tok'ra about his ability and he wasn't entirely sure what a injury would mean, in terms of changing shapes. "I don't suppose you could…."

"Just hold that thought," she answered, hurrying away and then back again, holding one of the Goa'uld healing devices. Harry kneeled gratefully in front of her as she held it up, looking a bit amused as she made the golden circle in it glow with the healing warmth.

"So, this is the Goa'uld you sympathise with?" Cordesh asked, after Harry's nose had been returned to it's original state, and the shape shifter had cleaned the blood off in a near by crystal fountain. The moment he sat down she nearly climbing up Harry and to his arms. "The queen of Apophis. What a surprise. However did you catch her?"

"Little bit of inside knowledge and lot of luck," Harry answered, shaking his head and pressing a kiss to her forehead, before looking down at Charlie and Arushal, who had also came forward. Harry grinned, and ran a hand over the boy's head – his hair was starting to come in, and there was a bit of a dark stubble there already. "Hullo there, Charlie. How are you and Arushal?"

"Well enough," the boy said, smiling with little more confidence, than he had shown the last time Harry had seen him.

"Holy Hannah," Jacob muttered, after coming to join them – apparently having seen or at least heard of Amunet's presence. "How in God's name did you catch her?"

"I knew where she would be, and I waited until she came," Harry shrugged. "Can you remove Amunet?"

"Yeah, most likely," the elder Tok'ra nodded, running a hand over his head and looking a little bewildered. "You knew where she would be? You must have better sources than we do. We had no idea about where she even was – she's been under ground since Sokar caught Apophis. How do you know her anyway?"

"I knew Sha're during her pregnancy," Harry answered. "It doesn't really matter that much." Especially considering that Sha're didn't know him, and probably never would.

Jacob paused and gave him a look. "You do know that Sha're is married to one of the Tau'ri, right?" he asked suspiciously.

"Yes, yes, I know. I like Sha're, but not like that, and the sooner she can go and join her husband, the happier I will be. I just want Amunet out of her," the shape shifter answered, shrugging his shoulders and lifting Cordesh a little higher on his arms. "She was a good… friend, and took care of me. I only want to see her well."

"We will have to inform the Tau'ri about this," Jacob murmured thoughtfully. "Daniel at least will want to come and see."

"If you do, please let them know that Amunet's Jaffa are in Abydos, causing a bit of a havoc. The Abydonians could use some help, think," Harry said. "There are some forty, fifty Jaffa there, and an Al'kesh, though it was landed the last I saw it."

The Tok'ra male gave him a look before heading away, muttering to himself. Shaking his head, Harry turned his attention to Cordesh and the to Charlie. "So," he said. "How's things been here since I left?"

"Same old, same old," Cordesh answered with some amusement. "We've been working a lot with the Reol – helping them re-establish their society, and set up some sensors to warn them of approaching Goa'uld, should any come their way. Ilyna has missed you quite a bit, and sulked even more, and promised me that she would beat you up should you show up again."

"Oh dear," Harry answered with mock horror. "May I have a final meal before I go? I've been eating cat food for couple of weeks now. I could use some mushroom sludge."

"I'm sure we can spare you some," Cordesh answered with a snort.

They could and while Cordesh and Charlie returned to their earlier duties, the shape shifter dug into it. He had promised Cordesh to stay around for a while to talk with Ilyna once there'd be less excitement about, though. He was through his second very bland plate of the stuff, when the Tok'ra pronounced that the extraction ceremony was completed, Amunet had been killed, and Sha're was free.

Harry felt a weight in his stomach at the sound of that, part horror and happiness, and looked away for a moment, his mind replaying all the times when Amunet had acted or sounded almost like a Tok'ra. If she had lived longer, seen more – she had been so young, for a Goa'uld, only less than decade old really – would've she became more like a Tok'ra? Maybe even like the legendary Tok'ra queen, Egeria, who like Amunet had started out as pure Goa'uld?

He squashed that notion as tightly as he just could and looked up just as Jacob lead Sha're, now donning the Tok'ra's earthly shaded clothing, walked into the room. She looked tired and worn and a little shell shocked, but there was such relief on her features, that she seemed to make the whole room around her lighter.

"This is him?" she asked, and then, at Jacob's nod, turned to face Harry. "I am told I have you to thank for this," she said. "So thank you."

"You're very welcome, Sha're," Harry answered, in the Abydonian language, which was so much like Goa'uld but not quite. "I hope you are feeling well."

"Not quite, not yet, but eventually," she nodded, and gingerly sat down across Harry. "Why did you help me?" she then asked after a moment. "Jacob Carter said that you are my friend, but I do not know you."

"You wouldn't. I have changed some, since then," Harry answered, lowering the Tok'ra equivalent of a fork, and crossing his arms on the table's edge. For a moment he looked at her, wondering if he ought to tell her the truth. The Abydonians had seen him switch back and forth between a falcon and a man, so there was that, but Sha're had known him as a cat… and the poor woman looked a little too confused by her sudden freedom, to really understand right then.

"You won't probably realise it, or remember it all that clearly, but you took me in, you were kind to me and fed me," he finally said. "I suppose I wanted to repay that kindness."

Sha're frowned. "You are right, I don't remember," she said, rubbing a hand over her forehead, trying to think. "I should," she then said, looking at him. "You are not a sort of man one would easily forget."

"I didn't look quite like this back then," Harry shrugged. "Anyway, after I saw what Amunet was like, what the Goa'uld were like, I didn't really want to leave you to that. And, after I heard of Apophis' defeat, I figured Amunet would eventually go after the child. So I waited there, until I got my opportunity to sneak up on Amunet and capture her. Turned out to be easier than I thought, bit of dumb luck I suppose."

Sha're swallowed and then blinked sharply. "How do you know about…. Wait, the child," she said and frowned. "The child, there is something about the child. Something special." She looked away, running a hand over her forehead and then just staring into the distance for a long moment. "Harcesis," she finally said. "He is a harcesis."

"I've heard that somewhere," Harry murmured, thinking back to the Goa'uld gossip. Where had he heard it? InMemphis?

"It is the child of two Goa'uld hosts," Sha're said and looked up, her eyes widening. "Child like that has all the knowledge of the two Goa'uld who gave him life."

"The racial memory? Interesting," the shape shifter said, leaning back a little. "That clears something's up. I did wonder why Apophis would want that specific child, and why normal human wouldn't do." And he had to assume that a child like that would be make a great host for any Goa'uld who was Apophis's enemy, having all his military and scientific knowledge. No wonder Amunet hadn't wanted the kid to fall to hands of Apophis's enemies, when the kid could give away all of Apophis's secrets, his hide outs, secret bases, and whatnot.

"Where is Danyel?" Sha're asked a little desperately, turning away from Harry and to look at the Tok'ra standing near by, guarding the door. "I must speak with my husband. Jacob told me that he would be informed – when will he be here?"

"The Tau'ri are coming, very soon," the Tok'ra promised gently. "They have been informed and are on the way. If you wish, we could go wait by the ring transporters."

"Yes, please," Sha're said, standing up and forgetting Harry entirely – not that he minded. She needed her husband more than she needed a stranger to whom no doubt seemed a little insane and suspicious. Left alone by the table, Harry reached for a crystal cup holding some water and took a sip, wondering if he could make his visit among the Tok'ra a little shorter than Cordesh wished. He would talk with Ilyna, maybe share a bed time with her and tell her stories like he had used to when they had been travelling, but…

He rather thought he would still cut his visit short. He had a feeling about Kheb now, and he thought he would've liked to visit the place soon.


	8. Chapter 8

Warnings; (ridiculously implausible and more than slightly overpowered)ShapeShifter!Harry and stuff. The year is currently 1998 in the story.

**8.**

Harry was still there, when the Tau'ri came. Or, more precisely, when Daniel Jackson did. "Jack, Sam and Teal'c are in Abydos," he explained to the Tok'ra, not paying much attention to them or Harry and only having eyes for Sha're, who had launched herself at him the moment he had ringed down to the tunnels. "With SGs' three, five and six," he added absently, holding tightly onto Sha're's shoulders.

Harry leaned back against a crystalline wall, partially hidden behind it, and wondered. SG was probably a team name or something, since Teal'c, Daniel and the two others were called SG1. How many were there? And how long had people of Earth been going back and forth in the space? And why didn't anyone else on Earth know about it? He certainly hadn't. Though on other hand, he hadn't been on Earth in, uh… well, it was starting to be about year now, wasn't it?

"What I don't understand is how Sha're ended up here? Or how did you know about Abydos," Daniel finally said, after managing to tear his eyes away from his wife's. He was speaking in English, which for Harry was a bit too strange to hear, having grown so used to Goa'uld in the past months. The Tau'ri continued. "You contacted us before the Abydonians did, even."

"We had an informant," Jacob said with a smile, he too speaking in English, and in American accent just as Daniel. "Which is also why and how Sha're is here." He turned a little to look towards Harry, who shrugged. "This is Harry. He is a… friend of the Tok'ra. He was at Abydos during the take over and managed to steal Amunet away from her Jaffa guard."

"Really?" Daniel asked, eyebrows rising. "Thank you. I… I can't even begin to… _thank you_." He said the last part in Goa'uld.

Harry nodded, smiling faintly. "You're welcome," he said in Goa'uld, not quite willing away his own origin and British accent probably would've done that perfectly.

Daniel eyed him a moment longer before nodding, and turning all his attention back to Sha're, who had lifted her eyes up to him again. "Danyel, I must speak with you," she said. "It is about the child, it is important."

"The child? Oh, yes, the child, of course," he answered, frowning and then looking up to Jacob again. "Is there a place we can speak in private?"

"Yes, of course," the Tok'ra answered with a smile and motioned them to follow him. "This way."

Left alone in the corridor, Harry sighed and shook his head. Sha're was lucky, as was Daniel. Not just for each other but also for the connection that had remained strong, despite their hardships. Turning away, he stretched his arms and wondered if he ought to start looking into starting a relationship with someone – he was eighteen, closing in on nineteen now, and he hadn't had… well, not since Ginny, and that had been puppy love for the most part. And he would've rather liked to have real, true companionship.

Well, it was probably best to wait on it, and see what came his way – his life was so crazy at the moment, that trying to pull someone _into it_ would've seemed like a cruel and unusual punishment. He could wait, it wasn't like he had really had the urge at any rate. Though, going back and forth between shapes might have something to do with that – it wasn't like a space ship could have the urge to… well.

"Harry, Harry, Harry!" a child's voice cried out, and Harry had only the time to turn before Ilyna crashed against his legs, hugging his knees tightly. "Cordesh, Charlie, Arushal and I are done reprogramming the sensors, and I have the rest of the day to myself," she pronounced and then frowned at him. "And I _hate_ you!"

"You do, sweetheart?" Harry asked, while prying her arms off enough to reach down and lift her to his arms instead. "What ever did I do?"

"You left, you big idiot," she answered, punching him onto the shoulder. Thankfully, even as a Tok'ra, she didn't pack that much a punch. Yet. "You shouldn't have left. It was stupid. You should stay here, with me, and not go anywhere."

"I'm sorry sweetheart, but it doesn't work that way. There's not much I could contribute to the daily life of the Tok'ra," Harry answered, figuring that since she wasn't all wibbly lips and moist eyes at him, she wasn't actually angry at him, more putting on a show of it for the sake of the principle. "How about you tell me what you've been up to since coming here, hm?"

"I don't wanna. You don't deserve to know," she said haughtily.

"You don't _wanna_?" Harry asked with disbelief.

Ilyna frowned. "Charlie says wanna. And gonna. And gotta. And for crying out loud, he likes that one a lot," she said, thinking about it. "Arushal says it's because of his stay on Earth. Tau'ri speak strangely, and somehow Charlie can make that work in Goa'uld too. It's a bit strange, actually."

"I bet," Harry chuckled. "What else have you been doing, except learning to translate Tau'ri lingo to Goa'uld?"

Mostly it seemed they worked with equipment and machinery. Fixing broken equipment, reprogramming some others, doing some experiment with new equipment, that sort of thing. "It's because we can't go to missions," she said, sighing morosely. "Cordesh isn't much a engineer, but Arushal is and he had been teaching us. I'm learning a lot, too."

"That's good, isn't it?" Harry asked and she sighed, apparently unhappy to have to stay indoors all the time after getting used to travelling with Harry, but she didn't complain out loud. They talked a little more, Harry eventually sitting down on the corridor floor with his back against the crystalline floor, and Ilyna settling down to sit in his lap the way she had used to, when they had been travelling. That was how Daniel found them later.

"Excuse me, um, Harry?" he asked in Goa'uld, approaching them carefully. "Could I have a word with you for a moment?"

"Sure," the shape shifter answered and turned to Ilyna. "Could you excuse us, sweetheart?"

"No," she said stubbornly, and hugged his neck tightly. "I'm not letting you out of my sight again! You'll just leave and I'll never see you again, so I'm not letting you. Don't even think about it."

Harry snorted, prying her arms off. "I came back, didn't I?" he laughed, and kissed her forehead. "I'll be just a moment, alright? Then I'll be right back with you. And, if I do go, and I'm not saying I will, then I will return later, okay?"

"I don't believe you," she said with a pout, but stopped trying to strangle him.

"Have I ever lied to you, sweetheart?" the shape shifter asked, which made her think for a moment.

"Hmph," she finally answered. "If you leave, I will hate you forever and never talk to you, and Cordesh can't tell me otherwise, so there!" she snapped, before standing up and marching away angrily, leaving Harry shaking his head behind her.

"Your… daughter?" Daniel asked with lifted eyebrows, looking between Harry and the retreating Tok'ra girl.

"No, but I would be pretty proud if she was. Even if she is starting to be a handful and a half," Harry answered, standing up and dusting his clothing – which, now that he thought about it, were fairly Tok'ra like currently. He hadn't given them much a thought before, when he had retaken this shape, but then, clothing were more or less inconsequential these days. At least he wasn't naked though. "So, what did you want to talk to me about?" Harry asked.

"Sha're told me what she remembers of how you captured Amunet," the man said, looking at Harry studiously. "You caught her in the pyramid at Abydos, right? Just in front of the gate. Is there any chance you might've seen the address of the world Amunet dialled before that, where she sent the child?"

"Kheb, yes. I did see," Harry nodded, and the man stood a little straighter.

"I would appreciate it, if you would tell me the address," the man said. "Please. It is very important to me and my wife, that we get that child back."

"For the sake of the child, or for the knowledge he's supposed to possess?" Harry asked, and as the man frowned at him, he shrugged. "Sorry. I can't stand the abuse of little children. Regardless of who their parents are, or what they know. I'll tell you the address, but I want to come with you when you go there."

"Why?" Daniel asked suspiciously. "We have no intention of harming the child – he is my _wife's_ child."

"He is the child of Amunet and Apophis. Sha're was just the carrier," Harry answered, a little brutally maybe, but that was probably how some would see it. While the Tau'ri man scowled at him, obviously insulted and nearly furious, he smiled. "I suppose Sha're would never let you live it down, if you did do something. No, I'm not that worried about what you want with the child, I can see that at least majority of your intentions are honourable enough. No, I want to see Kheb."

"The world?" Daniel murmured, thinking about it. "Because of the myth?"

"Myth?"

"In Earth mythology, Kheb was where Osiris and Isis hid from Set," the man explained. "I suppose there must be more to it, if Amunet thought it was the proper place to hide the Harcesis child."

"Hm. Yes, let's go with that," Harry answered. Mostly he wanted to go there just because he did, he couldn't really pinpoint the reason why, but… he had learned to trust in his instincts. "So, do we have a deal?"

"Well… I suppose. It will have to wait for a moment, thought, I need to contact the SGC and see what is happening in Abydos, and get a permission to go," Daniel murmured. "I'll be taking Sha're to the SGC at any rate, to have her checked up and things like that. If you would come with us, we can go to Kheb from there."

"Ah, no," Harry answered, shaking his head. "I will wait here. Once you are ready to go, contact the Tok'ra and we will meet by the gate. Or at Abydos, if that is more preferable."

The man blinked with confusion. "You would be well received in Earth, I promise you," he said slowly. "You don't need to worry. The SGC are looking for allies, at any case, and if you're friend of the Tok'ra then surely –"

"I'm sure I would be perfectly alright, but I will still rather wait here," Harry answered, not wanting to get into an argument about something like that, when he himself couldn't quite explain it, anymore. Before, in the first days and weeks, he had been absolutely certain he couldn't go back to Earth. Now… He shook his head. "We'll meet either here or at Abydos. It's your choice."

Daniel gave him a long look before sighing. "Here will do, as we don't know the situation on Abydos," he said. "I will head back to the Tau'ri now, with Sha're. We will contact the Tok'ra once we're ready to go – it might take some time. We might not… might not even want to go today."

"That's fine by me. I'll wait here," Harry promised.

x

The Tau'ri called back some three hours later, and after managing to pry Ilyna off himself, Harry headed up to the surface to meet them. The Tok'ra, though aware of where they were going, opted not to go with them, even with a Harcesis child at stake. "Kheb is feared by the Goa'uld for a reason," Jacob answered with a grimace. "There is something there that… well. No Tok'ra wishes to risk something of the sort – we do not want to risk it, if the entity of Kheb holds the same dislike towards Tok'ra, it holds for Goa'uld."

"Of course," Harry nodded, not quite understanding but figuring that it was better than to argue. If the place could be dangerous to Tok'ra, then it was just right that they kept their distance. "Though, if you know about the place, could you tell me anything that we might have to expect?"

Jacob thought about it. "All Selmak knows is that there is a temple there, some way from the gate," he said finally. "Or that is what the old legends say, I can't be sure."

"Okay. Thanks anyway," Harry nodded, and turned to leave, only to be stopped by Jacob's hand.

"If Sam – Samantha Carter, she's part of Daniel's team, if she comes with you…" the man started and then paused. "I would take it as a personal favour if you would keep an eye on her. She is my daughter."

"Oh. Alright. I'll see what I can do, but I can't make any promises," Harry offered, and the man nodded, releasing Harry's arm. With that done, Harry headed to the ring transporter, and up to the surface where he made the short trek to the gate – where four people, two of whom he knew by name.

"I guess the ordeal at Abydos is over?" Harry asked, eying the two he didn't know curiously. They looked familiar, he must've seen the other some where, maybe at Abydos before he had gone with Amunet? The woman was probably Samantha Carter, being the only female in the group.

"Yes, the Jaffa have been taken down and the Abydonians were released," Daniel said, and turned to his team. "Harry, these are Teal'c, Major Sam Carter, and Colonel Jack O'Neill," he said in Goa'uld, motioning to them one by one, finishing with very military looking elder man, before switching to English. "Guys, this is… Harry. He's the one who captured Amunet."

"That was nice of you," the last man, O'Neill, said in English, giving Harry a thoughtful, almost suspicious look and then turning to Daniel. "Are you sure this guy a good guy?"

"The Tok'ra seem to trust him," Daniel answered awkwardly. "And he did help Sha're free from Amunet, so there's that."

"Yeah, but why did he do it?"

Harry, who probably wasn't supposed to understand the conversation, cleared his throat, lifting his eyebrows slightly. "If you're going to start arguing, then I can just go back, spend some time with the Tok'ra, until you guys finish, okay?" he said to Daniel in Goa'uld. He didn't want to eavesdrop on people's conversation – well, not unless they deserved it. The Tau'ri seemed like good people – and they were from his home planet too – and he already felt like first class sneak next to them.

"Yes, right, we should get going," Daniel murmured, and glanced at his team. "I don't this is a time to start arguing about this Jack. Can't we just go and find Sha're's kid?"

The elder man snorted. "Sure. Unless he's leading us to an ambush and we will have some dozen Jaffa waiting for us on the other side."

"When Amunet sent the Harcesis child to Kheb, there was a guard for the child, correct?" the Jaffa, Teal'c, asked from Harry in Goa'uld, lifting single eyebrow.

"Yes. Five warrior jaffa and a young female jaffa, I think a handmaiden of sort, she was the one who carried the child away," Harry nodded.

As Daniel and Teal'c translated the words to the others, the Colonel cursed irritably. "You know, this is why we should go there from the SGC, at least from there we could send a Malp through first and go in ourselves after we're sure there is no ambush coming along," he grumbled. "Not that I'm not into this taking leap into unknown stuff, but it would be nice to know whether there is certain sudden painful death waiting for me on the other side.

Harry sighed, getting a bit irritated with this now. Shaking his head, he left them to bicker, walking instead to the dialling device and punching in the address for Kheb. "Do you have communication devices?" Harry asked. "I'll go through first, and signal you if it's safe."

"Yeah, and lead us straight into a nifty little ambush – Daniel?" the Colonel asked, as the bespectacled man unhooked his own radio and threw it to Harry. The shape shifter caught it, and without waiting for further arguments he walked into the gate, ready to shape shift instantly if it came to that.

It didn't. Harry stood in front of the gate, on a pedestal the sort most gates were on, and looked around. The area around the gate, which was fairly large clearing, maybe a old river bottom, surrounded by thick crop of trees. Harry peered into near by bushes and such, but he couldn't see anyone, or any sign of people. But he could feel…

He wasn't sure what, but he could feel it, in the distance, beyond the mountains that loomed above the trees. Something was there. Something… familiar.

"Daniel Jackson?" he called, lifting the radio and pressing the button in it. "It is safe, there is no sign of the Jaffa and the air is breathable. Its actually pretty nice. First planet I've seen in a while which isn't a damned desert."

"Well, that's good to hear," Daniel's voice answered after a while, crackling through the radio. Then, after another long moment, "We're coming through."

While Harry peered further towards the mountains, smothering the urge to take a falcon's form and make a mad dash for them, the four people from Earth came through the gate, one by one, clutching their weapons as they did. Harry gave them a look while handing the walkietalkie back to Jackson, and then looked around.

"Well then," the Colonel said. "Let's see if we can find where our Jaffa friends went, shall we? Teal'c, you want to take point?"

"Gladly, O'Neill," the dark Jaffa nodded his head, and then moved forward, to see if he could find the tracks of the Jaffa from before. While Harry watched from the gate side, Teal'c very soon did find the tracks – leading little off the track, but to the general direction of the temple.

Harry sighed softly and followed the SG1, and they moved to follow the Jaffa. "It seems that Harry's accounting of the events was true," the dark Jaffa said in very good English. "I count six footsteps, and one of those belong to a woman. They are travelling lightly but with some hurry," he added and pointed. "That way."

"Well then, let's follow them. Maybe we catch up with them before nightfall," the Colonel said, but without much hope, and they begun their trek after the Jaffa, and more or less towards the feeling that, the closer Harry got, started to effect him more. It felt _so_ familiar. It felt like… it felt warm, welcoming, even expectant, and the closer Harry got, the more he felt it. It was welcoming, excited, thrilled even, then a little puzzled and questioning, and if Harry had to put a word to what followed, he would've called it prodding. The feeling was prodding at him, like trying to get a reaction.

_I'm coming, hold your horses_, he answered or tried to anyway, and the feeling backed off a little, letting emotional little hum that felt like satisfaction. It was extremely disconcerting, but in the same time he felt light in the way he hadn't in years. The closest he could compare it to was the feeling he had gotten when Hagrid had taken him away from the Dursleys, and introduced him to magic – except supercharged.

Then they came over the hill like side of the nearest mountains, and saw the vast valley, lush valley – and the large temple, sitting near the other end of it. The feeling seemed to pulse as Harry eyed the place, and without waiting for the SG1's next move, Harry started his descent from the hill, and towards the temple.

It took over half an hour to get there, but get there they did. The temple's gates were invitingly open, and while the Colonel made some remarks about interior decorating, Harry ran his hand over the gates, the wall. _Hello_, he thought to it, because he was absolutely certain that what he felt was the _temple_ itself.

'_Hello_,' she thought back to him, now clear and almost verbal. She spoke in a language he didn't quite know, but could still understand because she was speaking somewhere inside him that was beyond language barriers – somewhere deeper. '_It has been a while since I have felt one of my kind who so new, so fresh. Why do you hide yourself? There is nothing for you to fear here, nothing to feel ashamed about. Come, take your true shape, and enter. I have much to teach you.'_

With a mental snap, or maybe a bang, Harry realised what she was. He stepped back a little, detaching his physical contact of the temple walls. '_You're one of the Ascended_,' he thought with certainty and some dismay came to his mental words even though he tried to stop himself. '_I'm sorry, I didn't realise. I only felt that you were familiar. I will take my leave now, it was not my intention to…'_

'_Why ever would you leave?'_ the temple asked, feeling confused. '_You are welcome. And you are so young, so new – so different._ _You must be eager to learn more of your kind_.'

Harry frowned, confused, looking up the temple walls and then away and to the interior. The SG1, figuring that he was best left to his reverie maybe, had walked forward. Daniel was stripping himself of his gear while O'Neill was nudging art a pile of Jaffa weaponry and gear that lay in a pile on the floor. Around them the temple seemed to breath sheer good will and kindness.

She thought he was an Ascended. How did she think that? '_I'm not…'_ he started and then frowned and swallowed his worry and hesitations. '_I broke the rules shortly after my Ascension – I killed a man with my powers. I was punished for it with the diminishing of my powers and exile from my home planet.'_

The good will and kindness changed, but not to dismay or anger, but pure astonishment. '_However did that happen?'_ the temple enquired, now feeling confused and curious. '_No, no that is quite impossible. Are you not a first generation Ascended who descended? I cannot feel the mark, the aura, of others on you. You are only yourself.'_

'_Well, obviously I am myself, but…'_ Harry paused. '_I don't understand, what do you mean first generation Ascended?'_ He wasn't an Ascended. He had been banished, descended, but that didn't make him less curious.

'_No one aided you in your Ascension. No one taught you, and no one supplied you with the necessary energy to Ascend,'_ the temple answered. '_I cannot feel the force of others in you. Or am I mistaken – did someone help you?'_

'_No… not really,'_ Harry answered. '_An Ascended named Lumos was the one who banished me though…'_

The temple was quiet for a moment before seeming to almost shake her head. '_That is quite impossible_,' she assured him in plain, firm tones. '_You are a first generation Ascended, even after your return to flesh and blood, you are a newborn. First of your kind, or at least among the first. There is no authority in this universe or any other that could punish you for any of your deeds.'_

Harry shook his head, disbelieving and confused. '_But I_ was _punished. My magic was taken away, I was made human – I was exiled to Abydos. It all _happened_. You can't tell me it didn't – I was _there_.'_

The temple didn't answer at first and hummed instead. '_Come inside, child,'_ she then said gently. '_Let us get to the bottom of this mystery. Do not worry, you are breaking no rules here. This is my ground, this is my space, and all that happens here, happens with my permission and will. Come. Do not be afraid.'_

Hesitating only a little, Harry went. He walked pass the SG1, up the stairs leading to the red doors and inside. The temple was warm, welcoming, and smelled like stone and wood and candles. Glancing left and right, Harry felt the sensation beckoning him and followed it, walking pass a monk in red and golden robes, who bowed his head wordlessly as Harry stepped pass him, but made no move to stop him as Harry walked forward and eventually to a room where a star shaped… well it looked like a glorified sandpit really, waited. There Harry hesitated, before, at prodding of a thought that wasn't quite his own, he shifted his shape so that his footwear vanished, and stepped into the sand with bare feet.

'_Become yourself, and not this shape you wear, and we will talk,'_ the temple said.

"I hope you don't mind if I add some clothing to it," Harry said out loud, and shifted into himself – plus a simple red robe, a little like that the monk had been wearing. It was a little odd to be just Harry Potter, and not something else. He had been the giant of a man for a long while now, and Harry Potter felt a bit… skinny, among other things, in comparison.

As he settled down on the sand, shifting so that the robe was comfortably, there was a languid sliver of light descending from the ceiling, and settling down to the sand before him. It turned into a dark haired woman with kind eyes and a soft smile, wearing similar robes.

"You can do that?" Harry asked with shock, looking up at the ceiling and then down at the woman. "Be two things at once?"

She laughed. "I am many things," she answered gently. "I am the plants around this place and fish in the fountains, I am the temple walls and it's interior. I am every grain of sand on which you sit, and I am the candles that light this place. When you grow old enough, to be one and to be many is merely the matter of a choice."

"Some choice," Harry murmured with fascination. "What about the SG1, the people who came with me?"

"My student will greet them and deal with them and if it is required, I can as well. Just because I am here, doesn't mean I cannot be there as well," she answered, and reached out her hands, expectant. Harry, a little uneasily, gave her his hands. "Do not worry about the outside world," she said. "Concentrate onto yourself. That is why you are here, is it not?"

"I don't know. I suppose it is. Um…" Harry hesitated, looking at their joined hands. Hers were smaller and warmer than his, and they felt physical. "My name is Harry," he then said after a moment, trying not to sound too awkward.

"I am Oma," she answered and smiled. "Normally, I would speak to you of Ascension and of releasing yourself of your weights and limitations, of becoming one with the universe and giving up your barriers… but you have already Ascended."

"And then descended by someone else, against my will," Harry answered awkwardly. "Not that I liked Ascension that much, mind you."

"Indeed?" she asked, and then held their joined hands up, mostly towards him. It reminded him a little of what Lumos had done to him when the man had _felt_ him just after Voldemort's death. "And this forced descent diminished your powers, you believe? To your, hm, shape shifting?"

"Obviously," he answered, a little awkward.

Oma smiled. "Harry," she said, now with more feeling as if she knew the name better now, having examined him. "Recall the things you have done. Your abilities. Could a mortal human turn into air, or control the atoms of his being? Could he really turn into a inanimate object, could he turn into a vessel such as Ha'tak? Even with the ability to transform, such things are usually impossible in natural order of things."

Harry shivered. "I… I figured it was the magic, doing most of that," he murmured. He didn't know what to feel – during those times, sure, he had maybe thought of it, wondered about it but… "I _was_ banished," he said slowly, looking at the woman. "I was dumped naked in the Abydos desert! I was made human."

Oma smiled a little sadly. "Well, this certainly seems to be a puzzle. It is true that… there are Ascended who enforce rules upon themselves and those of their kind. My kind," she smiled and shook her head. "But it is only so, if those who join us agree to follow those rules, and join us with our assistance. But you can believe me when I say, you are not one of _us_."

"Well, obviously not, I'm not Ascended –"

She frowned and then shook her head. "No. You are… disconnected, but in a way you are still Ascended. All the potential is there still. I am not certain how you cannot know it, how you have come to be so misguided about it, but any moment now you could retain your energy shape. Any moment, you could Ascend to that level again."

Harry opened his mouth to disagree, but didn't know what to say that he hadn't already said. Besides, the memory of his time as air came to back to him as rush. If he could turn into something like that, and manipulate his own very molecules, then why not turn into pure energy? Why not?

Because it had never even occurred to him, that's why. All this time and he hadn't given it any thought. Even now the thought seemed…

"You are newly Ascended, of no Ascended society, and as such, no being should have authority over you. Only you yourself can control your fate. You are… unique for the lack of better word, and if there are more of _your_ kind, more of your species who have Ascended, I do not believe that they have enough of a majority to force such authority," Oma said after a moment. "This remains true, even while you are physical."

Harry blinked, looking down to their joined hands, his mind refusing to work properly. No, he had been banished, Lumos had taken his magic, given him the ability to shift his shapes, and then exiled him and forbidden him from ever returning to Earth. It had happened. Right? He had even felt the urge to avoid Earth later. He had…

Until the thought that he _couldn't_ return to Earth had somehow became that he _wouldn't_.

"I… I don't understand," he said finally, looking up.

Oma nodded, looking at him sadly and squeezing his hands, before freeing them. It felt symbolic somehow, but Harry couldn't begin to understand how. "I will help you, as ever I may, if you should wish it," she promised, and smiled. "It has been so very long since I have seen one such as you. Helping you untangle this mystery will be a great pleasure. You're welcome to stay here as long as you'd like."

"I'd like that very much," Harry answered, running his hands over his hair.

"Now, I believe I must deal with your… SG1," Oma said, and stood up. "They come for the child, it seems. I must go and see if I can make them see the right course of action."

"And what is that?" Harry asked looking up. "Should… should I help? I know them, a little bit, I can –"

"No, you stay here and concentrate onto yourself. Rightness of a thing depends on the speaker, and the onlooker, and I'm sure enough we can communicate this between us, me and this SG1," Oma answered, and bowed down to press a kiss to his forehead. "Stay Harry. Stay, and meditate on what would have happened, if you had remained."

Harry stayed, settling down into a more comfortable position, while Oma faded away. Still, she was all around him, in every part and particle of the room, and he felt oddly like he was being hugged. Wondering if this was what it felt like to the passengers when he was a ship, he closed his eyes and tried to think.

He had never given it much thought – or _any_ really, but… what would've happened, if Lumos hadn't came along, and Harry had stayed on Earth as he was, freshly Ascended and with dead Voldemort at his feet?

x

Harry wasn't entirely sure what transpired between Oma and the SG1 – or what happened to the Jaffa handmaiden and her guards. He wasn't even sure when they all left – and they all did, at some point. It and everything else from people to time seemed inconsequential, as he sat in the sand pit on the quiet, isolated room, in the calm candle light with only his own thoughts for company. It might've been a hour. It might've been half a year.

When Harry finally stood up and left the room, though, the place was quiet. The gear of the Jaffa were gone from the front gates, as were the SG1's weapons and things. And, as Harry looked around, he came to be more aware that it wasn't just their gear which was gone – the people were gone too, and had been for a while now.

"Are you feeling better?" Oma asked, sitting in the garden with her feet crossed in her lap, watching the koi fish play in one of the interconnected ponds of the inner yard of the temple.

"In a way, I suppose I am," Harry answered, and sat down beside her. "How long was I…?" he made a haphazard motion at the inner temple, not entirely sure how to word what he had been doing. It hadn't been meditation or contemplation as much as it had been sort of backwards fantasizing, but it had been pretty informing nonetheless.

"Several days," Oma answered with a smile. "You needed the time and the peace and quiet. You have been moving for so long, that it did you some good to sit still for a while."

"I guess it was," the shape shifter agreed with a sigh. He wondered if he ought to ask why he hadn't been hungry or thirsty or tired, but it didn't really matter. Of course he wouldn't be. It wasn't like _needed_ to eat, or sleep. "What happened to the Jaffa, and the SG1?" he asked instead, looking towards the temple entrance.

"They left," Oma answered simply, and reached out her hand over the pond water. She made a motion of dropping something, and what Harry assumed was some sort of fish food fell to the surface, to be snatched up by the eager koi.

"Why do you do that? They're _you_, aren't they?" Harry asked curiously. The koi were Oma just as the water they swam in was Oma – just as much as the woman beside him was Oma. "They don't need to eat, do they?"

"Of course they don't. Bodily needs do not bother those such as us. But sometimes even the Ascended can appreciate the aesthetics of physicality," she answered and looked around them. "Why do you think this place exists? My purpose here could be realised through different, simpler means. There is no need for careful paving of the courtyard, or the flowers, or the paint of the walls. They are there because I like to have them. In a way that is no different from you choosing one shape over that of something else."

"Hm," Harry answered. It didn't quite match the impression he had gotten from the Ascended but, then again… that impression was pretty much false, wasn't it? "Would you tell me about Ascension?" he asked after a moment. "Your sort of Ascension, I mean, what it is like to your kind."

Oma nodded, and the some more crumbs to the koi, smiling as they made the water's surface ripple in their urge to snatch the biggest bits. "Ascension as a concept and as existence is many things. But among my people… For some, it is the journey of knowledge, and they bask their immortal existence in the unified wisdom. My kind has the access to all the unified knowledge of ourselves – my kin know all I do, and I know all they do."

"It wasn't like that for me," Harry murmured.

"You are different," Oma explained. "You do not have the access to our knowledge because you are not one of us. It could be likened to us being two different people in two different worlds – though there is a way to contact each other, we are still not same." She smiled and looked away. "Perhaps one day, when enough of your people have Ascended, you will begin to build the sort of nexus of information we have, but I suspect it will take a while. We Ascended thousands of years ago, and before that our race was millions of years old. We had the time to build our racial memories and knowledge."

"Ah," Harry murmured, nodding. "So, different races of people Ascend in different… levels? Places?"

"One could say so, yes. It does not make you any lesser than what I am, nor vice versa. But there is a difference," Oma answered. "This only happens when you Ascend under your own power, however. Were it so that I helped you Ascend, then you would have access to our combined wisdom, but you would also fall under our rules, from which as an unique, detached individual you are free from."

Harry nodded. That he could understand, at least. If it had been like that for him, that at least would've made his punishment understandable. "What do the Ascended do?" he asked curiously, uncrossing his feet and lifting one knee up so that he could lean against it.

"That depends. Most of us meditate upon our racial knowledge. Others meditate on life, on worlds and stars, on galaxies, some spent their time studying the layers of dimensions. Quite few of us watch living races, such as humanity, and follow them through their development and evolution," Oma said. "Some give up their Ascension from time to time, and retain physical forms, only to Ascend again at the end of their life spans – quite many do this. Then there are some who, like you, delight in transformation abilities. I know even some who transformed themselves into a planets and the like." She chuckled softly. "And then some, like me, balance between worlds so that we may teach our art to others. Such as I am in process of doing with my disciple, Rabten."

"The monk, yeah," Harry murmured, wondering where the guy had gone. Probably to meditate somewhere. "Lumos… he said that there are rules."

"For us, yes," Oma agreed. "Due to some… disasters that took place in the beginning, when Ascension was new to us. We made terrible mistakes, and entire worlds and races, thousands, hundreds of thousands of species, paid the price. Since then the rule to not interfere with natural development of other races has been the most important one of our laws."

Harry nodded thoughtfully. "And what would be the punishment for, say, killing a mortal man?"

Oma said nothing for a moment before turning to him. "That depends on the situation," she answered. "I have killed many," she then said, startling Harry a little. "Hundreds of Goa'ulds, and thousands of Jaffa. I am not punished for it. Do you understand why?"

The shape shifter thought about it before smiling. "You do it in protection. There are sentient species on this planet."

Oma smiled brightly. "Yes, there are," she agreed. "Rabten is a man from a nation not far from here, who have lived long in this planet. They plead protection and sanctuary from me, and I permitted it. And when those who would harm them come, I defend them. This is permitted, because it is well known that Kheb is a protected planet – no one comes here with murder in their hearts, unknowing of what they are facing."

"I vowed to protect my people. I died to do it," Harry murmured. "I didn't like it much, when I killed Voldemort, but… I shouldn't have been punished for it…" he trailed away, a little uncertain, but at least he had managed to _say_ it at.

Oma said nothing, just turned her eyes back to the koi pond. For a long while they sat in silence, with only the wind and the sound of the water making any noise. Harry let his thoughts wander, to Voldemort and to those first moments of his Ascension, wondering.

"Do you have your answer?" Oma asked after a moment. "Do you know why you have been fooled for so long, to made think that you had lost your Ascension?"

"I'm beginning to. But I think I will meditate on it a little longer. There are still things I haven't figured out yet," Harry answered, looking at her. "I would like answer to one question, though, maybe two. The way you look, that form," he motioned at Oma's human woman's form. "Is it what you looked like, before Ascension?"

"It is," she answered with a bright smile.

"Then. Do you look like humans, or do humans look like you?"

She laughed, and reached to pat his hands. "My kind was exploring far off galaxies, before your kind had even appeared," she assured, and Harry nodded, satisfied. He stood and walked back towards the interior. He wondered for a moment if he should pause for a moment, ask what had happened to the Harcesis child, had the SG1 taken the boy with them… but it wasn't that important.

So, instead, he went inside, back to his sand pit where he sat down to meditate a little more.

x

If Harry had stayed on Earth, he would've never learned of space. He would've never known Abydos or the Abydonians and never had any idea about what the Goa'uld were, or what they did. The greater galaxy all together would've been utterly lost to him. He would've never met the Tok'ra, never known Cordesh or Ilyna, he would've never met the Reol and learned to respect them. In fact, Cordesh and Ilyna would've most likely died on Memphis, and the Reol would've spent their lives trapped in the planet with a broken Stargate.

If Harry had stayed on Earth instead… He would've remained confused. Voldemort would've been dead, and the Death Eaters would've been locked up, sure, but what of the afterwards? Not knowing there were other places to go, Harry would've hung about Earth, and most likely… done exactly what an Ascended would be punished for doing, were there those to punish them.

He would've first done nothing, but his Ascension, his power, would've been plain to everyone who knew him, or saw him. They would've asked him to do this or that and eventually he would have. It would've probably started out small – Harry fixing some broken part of Hogwarts to everyone's delight, maybe even adding a new wing. But no, maybe it wouldn't have been just that because there had been dead in Hogwarts. Fred, Remus, Tonks…

Someone would've eventually demanded him to do to them, what he had done to himself, and return them from the dead. And Harry could've – he knew that now, it was easily within the power of an Ascended. He wouldn't have known how, exactly, and maybe the end result would've been flawed, but he still would've been able to – and with some tries, he would've been able to perfect it. And then what?

Then it wouldn't have ended. Every dead would've been brought to him, and he would've had to revive them all. And most likely all of those who had died earlier too. Moody, Dumbledore – Sirius… it would've been so tempting too, to do it. But that would've been beyond him – unless… unless he could go back in time. And he probably could.

And so, after a while, no wizard in Britain would ever die – when they did, they would be brought to him, and then he would make them breathe again. Or maybe he would Ascend them – someone would've surely demanded for that. And then there would be another one like him, without any rules to follow, and where would've that led?

And even if that hadn't happened, then what? After he had committed himself to rising the dead, the ministry would've demanded his action on this and that. Maybe they would've even considered Harry's power theirs – and he doubted very much that the other magical nations would've liked that. No, they would've made demands too, either for their share of Harry, or that no one would have him.

If the trick of Ascension would've spread, and if Harry would've actually managed the talent of Ascending other people… and what if he would've Ascended someone not so good? Someone like Voldemort or Bellatrix? He would've known, but there was still margin of error in anything, and heavens only knew what damage a Ascended Voldemort could've done.

But of course, Harry could've done nothing. After _losing_ his Ascension, his first urge had been to hide, and to survive. Maybe, as Ascended fully aware of his powers, he would've done that too. Made himself invisible, and hidden. He doubted he could've stayed like that, though – he was too much of a man in action, he could've never sat back and done absolutely nothing. No, he would've reached out and tried to help people. Heal Neville's parents maybe, or some other sick. Maybe help this and that lost soul find their way in life, their calling. And if some disaster would've stricken, a plague or something of the sort, of course he couldn't have let something like that run rampant. No, he would've stopped it and saved the people.

He doubted it would've ended there, though. There were so many things wrong with magical world. He could've given squibs magic, and taken it away from those who misused it and tortured people with it. He could've arranged more magical children to be born so that Magic would stop withering the way it did and would flourish. He could've nudged at this or that magical inventor, or maybe even just thrown some muggle inventions to magic, to bring them a little forward in development. It had always seemed to him a bit of a pity, how the wizards were so backwards in some things – throw in the muggle understanding over sciences and technologies and magic could've been so great. What would magical computer be like? He could've found out.

He could've completely upturned the entire magical world, and it probably wouldn't have even been difficult. Maybe at some point he even would've started to see how much better it was if muggles and wizards worked in unison, and arranged a disclosure. Then what?

Then the entire galaxy would've, sooner or later, found out about the magicians of the Tau'ri – of the natural Hok'taur of the planet Earth. Sure, Harry could've maybe held back the fleets upon fleets of invading and conquering Goa'ulds, but… probably not.

And in the end, nothing like that had happened – and instead Harry had woken up in Abydos, with one trick in his sleeve, and entire galaxy to explore.

x

When Harry felt like he was more or less ready to leave Kheb, he had two favours to ask of Oma.

"I'm not sure if I want to be Ascended," he admitted to her, after who know how long spent in meditation. "It's a bit too much power and potential for me. I think I'll just remain Harry the shape shifter. I think I like him better, than what Harry the Ascended could be." He shrugged at the look she gave him. "Maybe later, say, in fifty years or so, I'll reconsider, but for now… Harry the shape shifter is better."

"You wish for me to diminish your powers so that it is all you have," Oma assumed. "Your natural abilities as well, your magic?"

"Hmm… yes, I suppose. I've learned to be without it, and at this point it would feel like cheating, to have both. So… lock it away, take it away, descend me for real… it doesn't matter. So as long as I keep the shape shifting," Harry answered. "With the ability to take the shape of inanimate objects – and space ships, _especially_ spaceships," he added quickly. He did not want to lose his Ha'tak form, or the potential of becoming other sorts of space ships. He liked it too much.

"You do realise that you had the potential of using your magic and any other of your Ascended powers, every step of the way to here?" she asked. "You are so limited in your abilities only because you choose to be, whether you know it or not."

"I know it now, and…" Harry shrugged. It didn't help him much, in hindsight, and knowing it now just made him feel uneasy. What would've he done to Amunet, to Apophis, if he had known? What would've he done to Memphis in his task of saving Cordesh? It was a scary thought. "Maybe when I'm older and a little wiser, or something," he answered.

"Alright. I will do it, if that is truly what you wish," Oma answered with a soft laugh. "What is your other favour?"

"Well, that's a bit trickier," Harry said. "I think I know how and maybe even why I was banished from Earth, or at least I have one theory," he said, and she looked at him with increased interest. He smiled a little awkwardly. "But I need to make sure. Is there a way to travel back in time and to have a look?"

Oma lifted a single eyebrow at that. "Travel back in time to have a look?" she repeated slowly. "I thought you realised what transpired."

"Well, it's just a theory until I can confirm it. The problem is that if I'm wrong… Not that being right would be any easier than being wrong…" Harry grimaced and then shrugged. "I really need to have a look. Is there a way? My kind – that is, the people I, uh, used to be one of, have way of going back in time, so…"

Oma hummed, leaning back a bit. "Yes, there is a way to do it," she finally admitted. "It is… possible, but it is not within my powers, and not something I have ever been interested of. I believe I will have to direct you to someone else, who might be able to help you."

"I'd be grateful, but I was sort of hoping to get this done and then do the descending from Ascension thing immediately after," Harry said with a slight frown. "And I think I might need to be Ascended for the trip in time."

"Well, I suppose you will then have to come here afterwards, then," Oma said, smiling. "I certainly wouldn't mind the company. And in any case, as you wish to see the past on Earth, then you must go to Earth to view it. It is not something that could be easily done from here."

"Ah," Harry answered, nodding in understanding. "Okay then. Who's the Ascended you're going to introduce me to."

Oma smiled. "Well," she said. "He's not really an Ascended. He is an Alterran, like I was, before I Ascended, but unlike I, he never did. He does however possess means to help you in this case," she said, and reached a hand out, touching his temple and pressing a image of a gate address and a world to his mind. "Go there, and when you find the stone pillars, carve the date and my name to one of them. He will come, though you will have to convince him to help you yourself."

"Cryptic," Harry said with a lifted eyebrow, and rubbed his temple. It felt extremely weird, to have someone put a thought into his head, but it wasn't a bad kind of weird. Or painful, which was always good.

"All will be clear once you get there, I promise," Oma said.

After Harry paid his farewells to Rabten the monk, Oma took him to the Stargate that stood on the long since dried river bottom. "It has been a pleasure to meet you, Harry," she said, while Harry shifted his shape to regain some of the equipment in his bigger male form. Oma chuckled at it and shook her head. "I will await for your return. And know that I will eventually call in my debts."

"I'll look forward to it – both my return, and to you calling in your debts," Harry promised, stretching his arms and getting used to being larger again. "Now though, I think it's time I get going, before I get permanently stuck in this place, as lovely fate as that would be."

Oma chuckled, and kissed his cheek. "I wish you well on your journey, Harry the shape shifter," she said. "Goodbye and good luck."

x

Merry X-mas. I shall now pronounce this story more or less discontinued. Happy Holidays, everybody.

(Also Lumos isn't Harry, just so you know)


End file.
